Werewolf
by Remus-Chocolade
Summary: Based off Starkiller's Twin Vice Paranormal Detectives Universe. During their first case, George get to meet a werewolf face to face with a bit more unlucky result.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Weasleys belongs to Rowling, Nox and everyone else non-canon belongs to Starkiller.**

**AN: This is a AU based off Starkillers Twin Vice Paranormal Detectives because a plot-bunny simply wouldn't leave me alone for a while. It jumps back and forth a bit, but I hope it's possible to keep track. The part in _italic _is completely Starkiller's work and I only borrowed it because I wanted to be able to jump right into the story and steer it my own way. And maybe because I'm a bit lazy. (I hope that doesn't go against any rules in here. Not that I'm greatly concerned.)**

Nox Wolfe had found a quiet and shadow-full place in the backyard of The Burrow to slowly sip her beer and watch the slow pace of the sun towards west, thinking back on the events a month before that had brought her there today. She still had a hard time believing all of it had really happened, even if the scars on the back of George's hand should be a reminder enough. Nearly dozing, the scenes played themselves before her inner eye.

–

_Nox raced down the path through the apple orchards, Ben's rifle slung across her shoulder. Behind her lay the dark bulk of Rosewood estate, looking monstrous with its one lit window gleaming like a golden eye in the head of a giant Cyclops. The copses of trees moaned and swung in the rising wind. Nox decided this wasn't doing her nerves any good, and when she caught the grim face of a stone soldier through the trees, she gasped, lost her footing, and went crashing to the ground in an undignified heap._

_When she opened her eyes again, she found her nose inches away from the base of one evil looking statue. Nox half expected the lump of stone to turn its Goblin-esque head around and roar at her. Thankfully, the statue kept its beady eyes staring blankly forward and its ugly mouth shut, but something else about it had her attention rapt. There was writing, she realised with a start, scribbled across the soldier's chest: two sets of initials, JT and CB, inside two interlocking crescent moons._

_Nox stored the piece of information away and scrambled to her feet, setting off again at an even faster pace. She didn't relish the idea of roaming the lonely, ill-omened moor all by herself, but as she made her way out of the Estate she caught sight of a little bobbing light crossing the wild country, moving briskly towards a patch of drifting fog._

_Relief flooded her. 'There you are,' but just as soon as she'd thought this did the light wink out of existence. Her heart lurched and she pumped her legs furiously down the path, across the road and onto the marshy moors. Nox couldn't find any sign of a path and she was forced to plough headlong onto the wild moor, leaping from tuft to rock and using the heather for leverage. The sucking, wet marsh swallowed her feet, sometimes right up to her knees._

_A hideous howl broke around her, followed by a long, awful silence where even the wind seemed to drop as if in anticipation for a battle that was about to break._

_Then suddenly, a dreadful clamour broke the silence - barking and yammering; an inhuman and barely canine tumult. Nox clambered over a high, rocky tor, and found Fred and George in a wide pit, facing off an enormous hound bathed in moonlight. The giant dog was not unlike the hound in her book, only flesh and blood and slavering wildly, its yellow eyes rolling in its beastly head._

_Nox grasped inertly for her rifle, lips parting in amazement. Her mind fell utterly paralysed by the spectacle before her._

_George spotted her on the tor and shook his head in warning._

"_Get back!" he whispered fiercely. "You can't kill a werewolf with that poxy Muggle thing!"_

_Fred's head shot towards Nox and he groaned in despair. "Meddlesome and deaf!" He rolled his eyes skyward. "You ever going to listen to me?"_

"_You didn't listen to George. Why should I have listened to you?" she mumbled back, never taking her eyes from the hellish creature before her that had just now noticed her arrival and was beginning to pad softly towards the tor she was perched upon._

"_Yeah, and look where it's got me." Fred jabbed a finger at the savage werewolf. "If I were alive, I'd be dead."_

_The monster raised itself to its full, terrifying height, its hackles raised and bristling, and snapped its head between George and Nox, as if trying to decide who to maul first. Fear flooded her, paralysing every nerve so that the rifle in her hands shook madly. As if sensing her fear, the hound snarled and with long bounds it began leaping towards Nox. George plunged forwards, grabbing the werewolf by its tail and pulling hard. It roared in outrage and spun around to bite him, but George was too quick for it and ducked the attack, all the while dragging the werewolf further and further from the tor._

"_Who's afraid of the big bad wolf!" sang Fred, smacking the monster across the head again and again with rocks and clods of mud. "Come on, George, you almost had him there! Put a bit of muscle into it!"_

"_I would, but I'm trying to avoid the teeth at the other end," said George, just as the werewolf spun around and lashed its tail wildly in the air. The sudden, fierce movement caused George to lose his grip, and he went crashing against the edge of the pit and flopped to the ground, barely conscious._

_Fred shouted after him, fearfully. The werewolf was snarling and making a steady pace towards his twin, its slavering lips drooling in anticipation._

_Just then, the air exploded as Nox fired a trembling shot, but the bullet missed and split a small limestone boulder ten feet away. The werewolf sneered at her, and then resumed its steady stalk towards the twin who was pinned against the edge of the pit, half-conscious. Nox swore and cracked the rifle, shoving more bullets in and locking them into place as fast as her shaking hands would let her. The werewolf growled and leapt towards George as she aimed the trembling rifle once more. There was a CRACK and a pair of cold arms wrapped around her, steadying the barrels as much as they could. She fired._

There was a yelp of pain, but the shot to the hind leg seemed to do nothing more than aggravate the beast, which kicked off with its three good legs, leaping through the cold air. George acted on instinct, lifting his fists to battle, glaring through eyes that were nothing more than menacing slits. Both beast and man fought for life and death, not caring what was the outcome for themselves in the short moment it took the werewolf to fly through the air.

The air was filled with screams of terror, grunts of effort and the smell of fear as George's right hand met the snout of the beast, feeling short coarse hairs a split-second before it was engulfed in warm flesh and teeth, sticky saliva and gushing blood.

Yellow eyes glared into hostile black, both pairs only reflected a small part of the moonlight, and malice. George's face contracted in hatred as he shoved his fist further into the animal's mouth, feeling the sharp teeth reek the skin and flesh off his knuckles and the back of his hand.

He didn't stop. He kept pushing, feeling the enormous mound of muscles and hair trying to force closer to him, get more of him between the snapping jaws. The adrenaline pumped in his blood, he could feel his pulse in his head and the searing pain from his hand, but he didn't stop until he had his fist down the beast's throat, bending its shaggy head backwards as it began choking, but it made no move to get the blockade out of the way.

Somewhere far away he could hear encouraging yelling and terrified rambling telling him to let go, but he couldn't. His eyes were locked with the yellow ones, slowly realising the battle was lost, even if it had got in some good hits. The chest tried heaving, the throat contracting around his trapped and mangled hand, the only real thing as time stopped.

After an eternity the eyes went blank, the muscles went slack and the beast that had been roaming the moor laid unmoving. He kept his entire body still, as if the slightest movement would cause it to wake again.

"George!" The feminine cry of his name snapped him out of the trance and his eyes to Nox, Fred standing so close behind her as to almost float inside her. George blinked and slowly grabbed the werewolf's lower jaw to extract his bleeding fist.

"Bloody hell, Georgie," Fred whispered, his transparent face suddenly only inches from his twin's, searching it for... For what? A hint of bestiality?

"Yeah." George's voice came out as a hoarse croak as he slowly cradled his injured arm to his chest, his body beginning shaking and his eyes half-closing as the pain pulsed up his arm in time with the gushing blood to his shirt.

"Nox, run!" Fred yelled suddenly, his hands on George's shoulders, as if the wish to keep him still was enough.

"Why? What'll happen to him?" she answered, her voice shrill with fear.

"Just go, for goodness sake!" Fred roared, his face snapping around to stare at her. "Now!" The urgency of his voice seemed to vibrate through her bones, the concern setting her in movement like a mental slap. "And don't you _dare_ come back before sunrise!"

She whipped around, stumbling across the wild moor with tears of fear and worry streaming down her cheeks, the last sound from the duo Fred's mockingly scolding of George to keep him awake.

**OOO**

The spoon of hot onion soup hovered in front of her mouth. Her lips parted enough to allow it in and the warm, fragrant food ran down her throat as her eyes stared unseeing into the flames of the kitchen fire. Anther two spoons of soup was needed before enough heat and life was restored in her chilled body to blink and move her glance to the frowning face of Martha.

"I'm sorry, lad," the woman said, then put the soup bowl down on the table beside her.

_So am I,_ Nox thought numbly, not sure about what. The soup had seemed to do her good and she picked up the spoon herself and scooped the content of the bowl into herself, still a lump of ice laid in her stomach.

"How are you now?" Martha asked, getting up to wipe glasses clean. Nox watched with absent eyes, maybe it was a comfort for someone to keep in activity in the middle of this whole bloody mess.

She didn't understand quite what had happened in the last hours, only that George had to have lost the last marble he and his twin had between them to cause him to storm out in the dark after a werewolf that had just killed a girl, and then proceeded to shove his hand halfway down into the beast's stomach.

The sight of his blood had scared her, not because she had thought of him as invincible, quite the contrary if one could find the right button to push, but because of the sudden reality of it all. She had never doubted the seriousness of their business, but the surreal idea that a stale Jammy Dodger should put her life upside-down and topsy-turvy with ghosts and ghouls and what worse was, wasn't a thought that would ever have entered her head prior to stepping over the threshold of Weasley Manor.

Taking a deep breath and trying to gather her mind into its usual organised mode, she pushed the gory picture of George sitting there against the stone wall, shaking and bloody, out of her mind and began thinking of the outcome of current events.

If her knowledge of folklore didn't betray her, and she doubted that, George would now become a werewolf. Unless he bled to death where he sat with Fred joking about how he hadn't been scared of the big, bad wolf, the blood slowly seeping out of his body.

She shuddered at the thought. No, it didn't do any good thinking like that, and if there was any danger of George dying Fred would get help, somehow, somewhere.

"What's the time?" she muttered, not waiting for the answer from Martha or looking at the clock. Instead she stared out of the window, the dark was less dense now, more of a dull grey that allowed her to make out some shapes.

"Too late for you to be up," Martha answered. "Go up and try getting some sleep."

Nox didn't reply, just kept still on the hard wooden chair, shrugging slowly so the woollen blanked fell from her shoulders and caught on the back of the chair instead. _"Not before sunrise," _Fred had shouted at her. Not before any danger of George being dangerous passed. It wasn't exactly like he could mangle his nut-brain of a twin, either.

For once she had taken direct orders out of sheer fright of what would happen if she didn't. What she thought she knew about ghosts as moaning spirits looking for lost love or peace of mind in another way had been hastily rearranged the moment she met Fred, she had no desire to find out the same was true for surviving victims of werewolves.

She had ran, stumbled and waded her way to Rosewood Hall as fast as her knobbly legs would carry her, then banged on the front door like a maniac with both hands, screaming that they would let her in if they knew what was best for them, then collapsed in shock under Martha's care.

The minutes slowly snailed past as the light outside got stronger, the dawn drawing up a gloomy day submerged in fog. At last she got up to get her first aid kit, not sure what good it would do, except maybe preventing a nasty infection in George's hand. The idea seemed silly, the man had just inflicted himself with a future as a werewolf, still it offered her some small comfort as she felt she might be helping with something she knew far to little about to actually make a difference.

The reason of her presence there at all returned to her mind as she made her way to her room. The case that had seemed like a piece of cake at first, a bit of mystery to spice up her day. Not that her life had needed any more spicing up after meeting the Twins of Terror.

"To hell with it," she muttered as she emptied her rucksack on the bed. The case didn't seem to have an easy solution and she wanted nothing more than to pack her bag and leave Dartmoor for good now that Lucie and the werewolf were dead and George injured. She did not admit to be a coward, but didn't much desire to dig deeper in the bog of secrets the place held.

She would get a normal job, lead a normal life and never think about George or his ghostly twin again. After she had seen to at least one of them kept his life. The sun had risen properly now, hanging like a white speck in the clouded sky over the horizon, much like the moon had done not that long ago.

–

Draining the last of her beer, Nox stood up and dusted dry grass from the bottom of her trousers before heading inside to find something more optimistic to occupy her mind with.

**AN: And now a warning; I have a couple of more chapters to this but have hit a dry spell and it might never get completely finished. Hoped I have made somewhat of a decent job with what I have, though. Plus, I was extremely lazy with the finishing of the case because I couldn't for the love of it figure out how to write it well.  
**


	2. Chapter 2

Sitting on the bed of his boyhood bedroom, George ran his fingertips absently over the puncture-mark scars on the back of his hand, staring out the window on the slowly descending sun and the oncoming twilight. It was no way out of what was coming his way once it was dark, but somehow the memories of what had happened lightened his mood.

–

"What in bloody, screaming hell were you thinking?" Nox scolded George as she cleaned out his wounds a short hour later. He shrugged with his left shoulder and grimaced as the disinfecting liquid stung the back of his hand.

"Couldn't very well let it get away," he muttered back. Nox eyes bored into his.

"And that meant sticking your hand in its jaws?" she snapped back.

"Be easy on the boy," Fred told her in his usual cheeky tone where he was sitting on the remains of the wall, swinging his legs and not looking slightly affected by the scene. "Normally the fair maiden doesn't berate the hero for saving the day."

"The hero?" she screeched. "The hero? If stupidity is the same as bravery, then he bloody well is the greatest hero of them all!"

"Thank you," George retorted with a lopsided smile.

"It wasn't a compliment," she said, losing the last will to be gentle about his hand and rubbed the gauze hard over his swollen wrist and forearm, making him wince theatrically.

"So, now you got your nurse I'll might as well go get Dad and Bill," Fred said, jumping down from the wall and stretching his arms above his head.

"Oh, he ought to be in a jolly good mood now," George muttered darkly.

"Why?" Nox asked, her normal curiosity relieving her mind from worrying.

"Ah, our oldest brother, always very hero-y, had an accident like this," Fred told her. "Mind, it was his pretty little face that got the fangs."

"So you already got a werewolf in the family, jolly indeed," Nox said under her breath.

"Oh no," George said with a shaking chuckle. "Bill managed to get a werewolf to attack him without it even being a full moon. Left his face a mess and Mum had to accept his fiancé as her daughter-in-law."

"And other than that?" Nox said absently, beginning to wind a bandage around George's hand.

"And other than that he likes his steaks raw and are still victim of PMS, pre-moonal stress," Fred summoned up. "Was all fun and games with it until he went to the stage of crying over a small prank."

"I know," George sighed. "He used to be so cool, then just because his daughter turns up with her head screwed on the wrong way one day he becomes a bloody woman."

"I'm so glad I'm not related to you two," Nox said as she tightened the bandage, making George snort in discomfort.

"So, then I'm off. Should be back in a jiffy and a half." With a crack! Fred was gone and George moved his eyes to Nox bowed head. She blew her fringe out of her eyes and fastened the bandage, then leaned back on hers heels and looked critically on him.

"How do you feel?" she asked and removed his jacket from under his wrist, taking a good look on the blood-stains and trying to calculate how much blood he had lost.

"Great," he repeated with a pale grin.

"Really?" She cocked an eyebrow at him, not believing it the slightest.

"Really I feel like a mess," he admitted flatly. He had cursed himself well and proper in an insane moment to save Nox from harm in anger over Lucie's death, and his vision swam in and out of focus.

"You seem a bit pale," she said and handed him a bottle of coke.

"And I have a few freckles, my hair have a hint of red and I'm a trifle cocky at times?" he supplied as he placed the bottle between his thighs to open it one-handed.

"Along those lines," she agreed and came to sit beside him, leaning her back against the stone with a sigh. "If I weren't so glad you're alive I'd give you a proper walloping."

"Love you too, Noxy," he answered and forced himself to swallow more of the coke. Neither food nor drink was his first wish now, but he figured he needed the sugar at least. "You have a bit of mud there on your trousers." She broke out in hysteric giggles, she was covered in dirt, water and dead weeds to her armpits after her first flight from the crime scene, then a slow trot through worse terrain as her muddled mind tried to remember the way back.

"Yeah," she agreed with a last snort, her arms wrapped around her midsection. "A bit." They lapsed into silence after that, neither being in a mood to talk as they chased after their own trains of thoughts, staring straight in front of themselves.

A crack and two softer pops brought them out of their stupor. Nox lifted her eyes to see Fred floating over to them, two tall, redheaded men following him. The one on the right was obviously their father, with a receding hairline and a brown robe under a tattered, billowing cloak. The one on the left then had to be Bill, wearing a dark leather jacket and jeans in stark contrast to his father's image.

"Hi boy, how are you?" Mr. Weasley knelt down in front of George while Bill kept himself back a step, watching George accusingly. Nox staggered to her feet and removed herself a couple of feet as George contemplated his answer.

"Like shit," he concluded at last with a slight confirming nod.

"Well, can't expect any less," Fred agreed, sitting cross-legged beside his father and concentrating on George's face as if he was counting the freckles standing out against the dead-pale skin.

"Who's the girl?" Bill suddenly asked. Nox was pleased to hear his voice come out sounding human and not as the bark she had expected from his intimidating posture and the scars criss-crossing his face. The she realised she had been referred to as a girl for once.

"Nox Wolfe, paranormal detective," she presented herself and extended her hand, then retracted it to wipe some the grime off on her night-shirt chest, one of the last areas of her appearance that had remained close to clean. She also discovered, to her slight embarrassment, that her shirt had clung to her body due to the moist encounters of the last night and revealed the hint of feminine forms she possessed. "I... Work with Fred and George," she added as she shook Bill's hand briefly.

"Lucky you," he muttered and turned back to his brothers and father. "Can you walk or do we have to carry you?" he asked George, measuring up the shape of his brother with his eyes.

"I'm not exactly ready for a marathon, but I think I can get my feet under myself," George replied.

"Good," Bill said. "Then get up!" George managed with the support of his father to stand up and leaned back on the wall, sighing.

"Now what?" Fred asked, floating on his back and paddling with his feet to soar over them.

"Now you stop impersonating Peeves and we get this idiot to St. Mungo's," Bill answered with forced calm.

"Miss Wolfe should perhaps go back," Mr. Weasley put in, laying George's good arm over his shoulder.

"Oh, the nugget can take care of herself," Fred said, coming to land on his feet beside her. "Can't you, Noxy-poo?"

"Hmm," Bill said and turned to her. She subconsciously straightened her back, refusing to play the part of damsel in distress. "Yes, go back, pack your bags and I'll escort you to Mum's."

"But –" she began.

"Just do it, okay?" George said, a hint of plead in his voice, he obviously looked forward to get to this St. Mungo's.

"Okay," she agreed feebly.

–

George's lips curled into a grin, no doubt the worst was over.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: A very short chapter here, but I only just noticed. Oh, well.**

Having found the rest of the inhabitants of The Burrow to be as stable as nitroglycerine and equally as pleasant to spend time with, Fred had found his way to the attic among old suitcases filled with ancient robes and old toys. To the common outsider he might have been busy looking through the assortment of ripped-off teddy-bear legs and gnawed-on books, but his mind was busy with other things than how Percy's stomach had dealt with three pages out of Babbity Rabbity and her Cackling Stump.

Nox had been installed in the kitchen of the Burrow with a cup of sweet tea in front of her by the twins' mother, a friendly and round woman, if a tad anxious at the time. Her foot kept tapping slowly against the floor, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Would you stop that?" she snapped at Fred at last, who had been pacing soundlessly back and forth in front of the fireplace.

"Well, you supply the steps, I gotta do something about them," he retorted, but flopped down on the chair opposite her as she managed to keep her foot still. Bill had gone to St. Mungo's, which she had found out was a hospital, through the fireplace of all things. Well, why not, she had figured, I'm sure Father Christmas won't mind.

They still hadn't heard anything, neither good nor bad, and was firmly stuck at the Burrow as ghosts were generally frowned upon in places with injured and dying people and Muggles were banned from the magical hospital unless they were visiting close relatives.

"The Minister's cat's an anxious cat," Fred said, his eyes gleaming with desire to annoy her.

"The Minister's cat's an arse-hole," she replied promptly, glaring at him. "Where's your mother?" If she hadn't observed anything else, she had seen how Fred became slightly less obnoxious when his mother was in the room.

"I don't know, doing laundry or de-gnoming the garden or anything else to keep her mind off the fact..." His voice died away.

"The fact that George is a werewolf," she finished for him, seeing the remark sting him. Sadly it stung her too.

–  
Growing tired with the stuffing producing out of Ginny's old rag-doll, Fred floated down to the ground floor to see how George's potion was doing. 


	4. Chapter 4

To be honest, Bill still found fire-balls of rage erupting in his stomach sometimes when he thought about his younger brother's stupidity at the last full moon. Still, these quickly subdued as he remembered George had had his reasons. Stupid reasons, yes, but still reasons. Staring down in the cauldron placed on the living room floor with a safe flame under, half his mind was on the brewing, half was on the events that brought him to brew it.

–  
George heard footsteps. Tack, tack, tack, a steady rhythm across the linoleum floor, four to the left, four to the right, then three to the left again. He cracked his eyes open to see a blurred shape with long, red hair flowing over the shoulders pace back and forth by the end of his bed.

"Hi, Bill," he muttered and settled himself better on the mattress. He had passed out shortly after they arrived at St. Mungo's, but it looked like his father and oldest brother had gotten him help anyway.

"George." Bill's voice was just above him and he opened his eyes again, blinked a couple of times to clear his vision, then met Bill's glare as best he could. "You complete idiot!" Bill had grabbed the collar of George's shirt and hoisted his back up from the mattress.

"Oh, am I?" George retorted.

"Yes!" Bill heaved his brother another inch up. "Fred came in just after dawn, scaring both me and Fleur halfway out of our skins, then tells me you've gone and chased after a bleedin' werewolf in the middle of the night and kinda got bitten!" The older's free hair fell like curtains around them, framing their vision to nothing more than each other's faces.

"Bill, could you let go of me now?" George said, swallowing hard.

"Why should I?" Bill flared his teeth, his forearms quivering under the stress of holding his brother's torso.

"Or else I might kinda throw up on you," George answered. Bill let go at once as if he was holding red-hot coals and passed George a basin.

"You know you were stupid," Bill said when George was done, took the basin from his hands and put it hard down on the side-table again before throwing a towel haphazardly in his brother's direction.

"No," George said, falling back on the mattress with a small thump after wiping his mouth and chin. "I didn't just run out in the middle of the night after the werewolf."

"Oh?" Bill said, not in much of a mood to hear George's feeble excuses for ruining his life.

"No, you see, there was a girl," George told him, feeling a stab of pain in his chest at the thought of Lucie.

"Oh, there was a girl," Bill answered sarcastically, but drew up a chair to sit down beside George's bed. "Tell me, then." George took a deep breath and began telling the story, starting with the previous afternoon and picking up the threads as best he could as he went along to make up more or less the whole picture.

When he was done, Bill heaved a great sigh and looked into his eyes again. "I still think it was stupid," he said. "But a little bit brave, too."

"A little bit?" George repeated. "It's the bravest thing I've done since Moldy-pants snuffed it!"

"The stupidest too," Bill said hard, getting up from the chair again just as their father appeared in the doorway. Seeing the oncoming blow-up, Arthur hurried over to them and patted George's hair absently.

"Go and find some tea for us, would you, Bill?" he said softly. Bill snorted, but took the hint and strode out. "How are you?" he asked George the second they were alone behind the screens.

"Perfectly fine, if it's normal to have your heart in your hand," he answered and gingerly lifted his injured hand from the blanket, turning it over to take in the sheer size and colour. It had swollen to over twice its normal size and glowed in purple and red with a hint of dark blue along his knuckles, his fingers stuck out like over-cooked sausages and his pulse made the whole thing beat a sickening rhythm.

"There'll be some some Healers along to see you shortly," Arthur said, still stroking his son's fringe away from his forehead. His blue eyes were soft and worried behind the lenses and George couldn't keep the small twist of guilt in his gut at bay.

"I'll be fine, Dad," George said as calmly as he mastered. "They have the Wolfsbane Potion, right?" He attempted to smile, but his lips quivered as the reality really sunk in. He had known it all along through those cold hours out on the moor with Fred, but first now he allowed himself to worry about his future.

"Yes, they have," Arthur agreed quietly, but George could see the tears wanting to escape his father's eyes.

–  
The potion was coming to a boil, but Percy subdued the flame under it before Bill even registered the potential disaster it could cause. Bill wasn't known to bear grudges or be angry for long, but exactly werewolves got to him. Maybe it was a childhood of being warned against going outside after dark, maybe it was that he himself had been attacked once and got away with a warning and several nasty scars, maybe it was both. Whatever it was, he hoped George would get through the night all right. 


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Ah, finally a bit with my personal favorite Weasley!**

Charlie was strolling the outskirts of Ottery St. Catchpole as the shadows began to get longer. Of course he too harboured a bit of worry and anger towards George, but he had given up denying for himself he was exited, too. After all, he would be able to watch, at close range, the effect of the Wolfsbane Potion and possibly the transformation back to human. A night out in free air wasn't against him, either. That was if all went as planned.

–

It was mid-afternoon and Nox still sat with the same cup of tea between her hands, staring out of the window at the weeds sprouting out in the yard and the litter of old wellington boots, doing her best to ignore Fred's ongoing one-man show.

"Hello, is this thing on?" he said, pretending to hold a microphone and tapping it with his finger. "Hello? I might as well be dead!" He finally succeeded in getting her to look at him, even if it was a glare.

"Can't you find someone else to harass?" she muttered moodily.

"Like who?" he asked innocently.

"I don't know, your mother?" she retorted. "Where is she, by the way?"

"Probably down in the cellar crying her heart out in her apron, that's where we found her after Bill was attacked," he said with a shrug.

"You are the most insensitive bastard on the planet, living or dead," she concluded and pushed the cup out on the middle of the table.

"And you have all the charm of a broken broomstick," he retorted, making her groan. The waiting was driving them both up the wall and they snapped their eyes to the door as it opened with a creak, looking for a distraction from each other.

"Charlie, old boy!" Fred threw his arms up in greeting as his second-oldest brother stepped into the room, nodded quickly to Fred before picking up the cup from the table and emptying it in one swallow.

"You weren't drinking that, were you?" Charlie asked, belatedly noticing Nox as he massaged his throat for a moment.

"I see where George gets his manners from," she replied dryly after a quick estimation of his red hair, broad shoulders and freckles. Charlie didn't seem to notice it as he sat down, took out a pack of menthol cigarettes from his jacket and placed one between his lips before searching for a lighter.

"Speaking of, how's he doing?" Charlie asked, the cigarette dipping up and down from the corner of his mouth as he talked, Nox's eyes following eagerly. "You want one?" He pushed the pack towards her and she hesitated for a moment, she had worked hard on quitting, but her nerves needed one to calm down. Charlie found the lighter and lighted hers before his own while Summoning a dish to use as ash tray.

"Your guess is as good as ours, we haven't heard a syllable, dear brother," Fred said. "What brings you here?"

"Portkey," Charlie retorted. "If you mean why I'm here, got a letter regarding George's sudden change of lifestyle." Even if his tone was light, his eyes were heavy with concern.

"You live far from here?" Nox asked to at least keep the silence in chess.

"Romania, work with dragons," Charlie told her and leaned back. "You?"

"Come from Scotland, work with that clot-head." A casual flicker of her hand indicated Fred and he put his hand to his chest, looking mortally offended. Charlie gave a heavy cough before inhaling deeply of the cigarette again. "Shouldn't you stop smoking with a cough like that?"

"No, these little babies actually help," he answered and tapped the pack with his knuckles. "Very minty and nice."

"I should known you were a weirdo since you're related to that." A jab of the thumb was all attention she spared for Fred now and he blew a raspberry at her as her stomach grumbled, reminding her she hadn't eaten for nearly twelve hours.

"Oh goodness, the monster is awake again," Fred said and covered his ears with his hands.

"Hungry? I could cook something up, if Mum's not around," Charlie offered, but Nox shook her head. "No, I'm starving myself, it's no trouble!" He was already up and looking for a frying pan.

"You can cook?" she asked a bit dubiously as he began cracking eggs into the hot pan.

"Well, I haven't killed myself yet," he told her honestly. In no time at all she was presented with a plate with two fried eggs, six pieces of warm sausage and three slices of toast. Charlie had the same, times two. "I said I was starving," he defended himself with before beginning to dig in.

"When aren't you starving?" Fred shot back.

"Why don't you go see how the chickens are doing, hmm?" Charlie asked with his mouth full, cocking a brow at his brother.

"No," Fred replied promptly.

"Why not?" Charlie kept his tone too friendly for Fred to like it and he folded his arms over his chest, refusing to answer at first.

"Because you keep flirting with my colleague," he said after several long moments of glaring.

"What?" Charlie and Nox said at the same time.

"Yeah, you just come waltzing in here, bragging about your work and asking about her and then cooking her a splendid meal! I'd say that's flirting," Fred concluded.

"Merlin's pants, Fred," Charlie chuckled, "you think I was flirting? It's called hospitality, something I think you could do good with learning a bit about. No, if I'd been flirting, I'd done this" – he picked up Nox hand in his own large and callused one, looked deep into her eyes and lowered his voice to a husky burr – "has anyone ever told you your eyes sparkle like the ocean on a moonlit night?"

"You're a bachelor, right?" she retorted dryly and freed her hand to pick up her knife again.

"However did you guess?" Charlie answered airy.

–  
As Charlie began the walk back to The Burrow, the thoughts of what would happen if things didn't go as planned sneaked into his head. He tried putting off thinking of it, but he knew if the potion didn't work on George for one reason or another, they would be forced to bring him down. Firing strong spells at his brother was not something Charlie was comfortable with, he knew they could do permanent damage. Shooting a Stunning Spell to confuse a grown dragon was one thing, shooting a spell with the same strength at a werewolf would probably blast him across the room without doing much good. Still, he did his best not to worry about it unless the time came and he had to do it. 


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Okay, something bad happened with the last chapter and stuff, suddenly I can't use -- as anything, but just try to remember the first and last paragraph is always taking place later than the rest.  
**

Nox found work to do, at least to occupy her fingers. A stray cat had snuck into the house and made a mess of Mrs. Weasley's knitting yarn, and in loss of others thing to do, Nox offered to help solve the knots. Still, her mind was free to wander.

The hours wore on and no news came about George. The pack of cigarettes were slowly devoured by Nox, even if she keep telling herself this'll be the last one, just one more and we'll hear about George. Fred's jokes kept getting ruder as his nerves obviously became more and more worn. Charlie went to search for Molly and returned with her a quarter of an hour later, puffy-eyed and with dirt stains on her apron. So she had been digging or something.

Nox kept a steady tattoo with her fingernails on the table, her other hand supporting her head as she tried forcing her mind to think rationally and make sense of it all; werewolves and people disappearing up the chimney, what would be next?

"Go lie down on the couch, me and Freddy-boy'll check out the chicken coop," Charlie told her at last, seeing her drooping eyelids. She opened her mouth to answer, but changed her sleep-deprived mind, stumbled into the sitting-room and fell over on the couch, snoring in less than a minute.

She drifted towards consciousness again a couple of hours later of the feeling of something ruffling through her hair. She lounged out a hand and the ruffling stopped for a moment, then continued, a small strand of hair tickling continually over her temple.

"Go away," she muttered and turned over on her side, facing the back of the couch, and stuck out her behind in a clear signal she wanted to be left alone.

"Shh, Noxy-foxy, you're so pretty," a leering voice cooed by her ear. She whipped around to sit up at once and glare at Fred, who lost his concentration in the surprise and the hair clip dropped to the floor.

"What are you doing?" she asked, running her hands over her head and finding several clips pinning her hair in all possible directions.

"Making you pwetty," he answered innocently with a grin as she began pulling the clips forcefully out of her thick, short locks.

"Don't bother," she muttered and ran her hand several times through her hair in a vain attempt at making it lay properly. It was still caked in mud some places, even if she had got the opportunity to change and wash before Bill escorted her to the Burrow. She still shuddered whenever thinking about the suffocating feeling and the confusion of suddenly appearing in a completely different place.

"Oh, but you haven't even seen your face!" Fred happily handed her a hand-mirror and as she raised it to look at herself she let out a skelloch loud enough to wake the dead, if he hadn't already been kneeling beside her, shaking with mirth. Her face looked like nothing less than a pantomime gone horribly wrong; her cheeks were powdered nearly white, a thick layer of mascara framed her eyes and a nasty pink covered her lips and eyelids.

"Fred Weasley, I'll – I'll – argh!" In loss of words she jumped to her feet and did her best to kick, pinch and hit him, to no help at all. "You goddamn –"

"Fred." Charlie had appeared in the doorway and looked grimly at the scene before him, which had frozen with Nox making a grab for the ghost's ears. "Mum wants to speak to you, she's upstairs."

"'Bout what?" Fred asked, already striding towards the kitchen.

"Dunno," Charlie answered with a shrug as the translucent form of his brother passed through him. Nox fell back on the couch again, still panting with anger, and dragged a finger over her cheek, frowning at the grime that followed. "New look?" Charlie asked, leaning against the door frame.

"No," she answered hard. "Where did he get all this stuff from, anyway?" She eyed the assortment of cosmetics on the coffee table warily.

"Some he stole from Mum, some of it is their own inventions. I suggest you go wash it off," he said and pressed against one side of the door as she stomped into the kitchen and seemed to do her best to drown herself in the sink, splashing water over herself and most of the room. "Tell me if your skin starts pricking or anything."

"And what can you do about it, exorcise Fred?" she asked as she mopped her face clean with a towel.

"Not quite," he answered and sat down on the edge of the table. "How long have you known the twins?"

"Five – six days, I think," she answered. "And I had no idea how easy the previous twenty-three years of my life had been." He chuckled and shook his head slowly.

"Congratulations, I think six days is the longest Fred has ever kept a girl," he told her.

"I'm not his girl," she said between clenched teeth as her ears turned pink in annoyance.

"I didn't say you were," he answered. "I meant as a general – friend, employee, enemy, no girl have ever managed Fred for that long when he's that committed."

"I'll pretend you didn't say any of that," she said and emerged from the towel. A loud fwoosh announced the arrival of Mr. Weasley by Floo.

"He's all right," the middle-aged man answered before they could ask. "George is in good hands, they've just redressed his wounds for the third time in an hour, propped him full of potions and had us fill out a good many forms." Nox visibly deflated at the good news and sagged down on a chair. Charlie just gave a nod to his father.

"Bill's been seeing him?" Charlie asked and stood up properly.

"Yes. Sent him to get us some tea and he didn't return." Mr. Weasley took the chair beside Nox and removed his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. "I think he went home to his wife."

"To cry in her arms," a sharp voice said above them and they all looked up to see Fred's torso emitting from the ceiling, his hair dangling over his eyes as he craned his neck to look at them.

"To sleep," Mr. Weasley insisted instead.

"In her arms," Fred said with a sneer and was off again.

"He's been like that all day," Charlie told his father. "I think the sooner we get George back home, the better for all of us."

"Yes," Nox agreed quietly. And sooner I can leave my resignation letter.

The first line was free, after minutes of fumbling with a particularly hard loop of a knot, and Nox stretched her fingers before beginning with the next.


	7. Chapter 7

Fred had found a place in an old oak, the leaves partially obscuring his view of the oncoming sunset over the hills. His mind was not at ease, although he had accepted the fate of his twin. Worse thing could happen, right? He was himself a proof of it.

The night had fallen over Ottery St. Catchpole, silent and comforting for the inhabitants of the village. The others had long since turned to their beds after a heavy meal supplied by Molly, but Fred drifted back and forth in the garden behind the Burrow, making futile tries at kicking tufts of grass.

"Yeah, you had to play the bloody hero," he muttered out loud, his mind circling around his twin. "Bloody indeed. Now what do we do? Your hand's the size of Hagrid's and you'll be useless once a month."

He kept pacing, shooting occasional glances up at the almost-full moon peeking through the trees. The first casebook seemed to have gone down the drain, which didn't please Fred over-much. Sure, he didn't have the greatest sympathy for the Beckinsale girl, and even less for Terpwin, but he did have a great deal of both sympathy and concern for himself and his twin.

Seven casebooks, seven sins. That's what they were supposed to complete and have a chance of moving on with their lives. In plural. Now George seemed to be out of the game for a while and the nutty Muggle was about as much help as a sandbag in Sahara.

Fred had seen how Charlie had began playing his colleague, as he had dared himself to refer to her as at the time, the moment he had laid eyes on her; first aggravate her slightly by taking her tea, then offer he a small gift in the form of a cigarette, keep the talk casual before proving he could take care of her and sealing the occasion as a date with the food. Just the thought of having the knobbly, realistic, boring Muggle in the family, by marriage no less, made a shiver run down his ghostly spine. The dolt he had been known to call his brother even had the guts to send him out of the room with a lie about their mother wanting to speak to him just for five more minutes with the nugget!

On the other side, without her, in a completely platonic, work-related alliance, even his present state hung by a thin thread. Still... He could take care of things by himself, at least until George was up for more mysteries.

"Seems like it's up to you, Freddy-boy," he mumbled, chewing his lip and beginning to run the course of events through his mind, starting with the buying of Weasley Manor.

–  
This night, however, very little was up to him, except looking out for George so he didn't in fact turn into a raving beast. Beast he would become anyhow, but preferably not a threat to himself and others.


	8. Chapter 8

A steady flow of news in the form of scribbled notes from George followed the next day, even if it was much the same, he was all right and starting to bug the Healers. Both Nox and Fred calmed at this, knowing the third corner of their company was well on his way to join them again. Molly seemed to be on a baking frenzy and Nox politely excused herself to go out, saying she had some work to do. Fred found her on the front step an hour later, hunched over her notepad and chewing on the pen, looking out over the yard without seeming to see it.

"You really shouldn't let the chickens walk all over your notes," he commented, peering over her shoulder at the scrawling.

"Huh? Sod off," she answered, still not seeming to notice him fully.

"Witty retort, George taught you that?" he asked, sitting down beside her instead.

"This?" She said absently, indicating the notebook and the page which seemed to display some sort of raggedy timeline. "No, just my notes."

"You have the worst handwriting ever, I can't make out a single letter! And that's saying something," he told her mock-gravely.

"You're not supposed to," she explained in a tone as if he was five years old, and slow to boot. "It's really quite simple, every letter is mirrored and you read every other line from left to right, the others right to left."

"And you would do that because...?"

"Because I like to keep my notes to myself," she said and slammed the small pad closed as he began shooting interested glances at it.

"You just raised your paranoid level from absurd to obscure," he informed her and jumped to his feet again. "Come, Mum's dying for you to taste her apple pie!"

"Apple? Ugh!" She had hoped she wouldn't see another apple or apple-related dish for half a century, but obediently followed him into the kitchen, where Molly presented her with a plate of pie, complete with whipped cream and vanilla sauce, refusing to hear any polite objections of how Nox was still stuffed after lunch.

Forcing down a few bits of the pie, but mostly just moving it around on the plate with the small fork, Nox continued her train of thought, one hand absently on the pocket with her notepad in it, as if the knowledge that the words were there was a comfort. Fred went around the kitchen slowly, inspecting what his mother had baked so far and trying to smell it. Suddenly the flames in the fireplace turned green for a moment and Nox looked up to see a tall, redheaded man, doubtless another one of the twins' close relatives.

"Hi Mum, Fred," the man muttered, balancing the books in his arms better before dumping them on the table and taking a seat.

"Percy, good to see you in such a corking condition," Fred said flatly, having noticed the title on one of the thicker books his brother had brought. "Werewolves then and now? Why?"

"Because of G-George," Percy told them, accepting an egg custard from Molly as she fussed gently over his hair before going back to the batter she was mixing. "I've been at the Ministry and Hogwarts to find out more – more –" he didn't manage to stifle the jaw-cracking yawn "– about how we'll make it b-best for him and I think I found a recipe with some tweaks to the Wolfsbane potion." He took off his glasses to rub his eyes and shook the rather greasy fringe away from his forehead before putting the glasses on again.

"Tweaks? What for?" Fred said, crossing his arms over his chest. "The potion is made for werewolves, you know."

"Yes, but it's not flawless as it is," Percy said, beginning to gather the loose sheets of paper producing between the books in the stack.

"Potion for what?" Nox asked, being fed up with people talking over her head about things she didn't understand a word of. Percy's bloodshot eyes snapped to her, then to Fred, and settled on her with a soft warning against the ghost she didn't like.

"The Wolfbane Potion," Percy began in a lecturing tone, seeming to enjoy himself in the moment, "was invented by Damocles in 1987 and relieves, but do not cure, the effects of the full moon on a werewolf. The main ingredient is –"

"Oh, fascinating, Perce," Fred cut him off with. "George will keep his mind, but still look like a nasty beast," he told Nox shortly.

"Not much out of the ordinary, then," she concluded, seeing Molly having taken to turn the batter a bit more forcefully than strictly necessary.

"Yes, but it do-doesn't always work," Percy said, handing her a news-clipping. She skimmed through it fast, the story was of a werewolf that had taken the wolfsbane potion, then 'lost control', as it so delicately said, and killed his fiancé and her child. "Damocles himself haven't been working on perfecting it, but someone else did." Percy took a book out from the middle of the stack and opened it, showing the page to Fred and Nox.

"Crikey with a cherry on top!" Fred exclaimed and slapped his forehead. "You're not telling me old grease-beak's gonna be of some help to us now?"

"Yes, I am!" Percy snapped as Nox pulled the book a bit closer to herself to have a better look at the picture of the sallow-faced man with a hooked nose and cold, black eyes.

"Severus Snape, Potions," she read the top line out loud. She thought the photo blinked at her, but pushed it out of her mind as a trick of the light.

"Worst professor we ever had," Fred told her with a theatrical shudder. "If I didn't know better, I'd say he had something against us."

"He was still one of the best Potions Masters," Percy said and yawned again, making a feeble attempt at covering his mouth with his hand. "He didn't j-just brew the potion for Mr. Lupin, he perfected it." He flipped the page over to show the picture of the then-Defence Against the Dark Arts professor with another yawn. "I've got permission to borrow some of his personal notes from the Headmistress." He indicated a small notebook bound in black leather.

"Typical Perce, asking permission," Fred muttered in Nox's ear. "If you're just borrowing, why ask?"

"So this'll help George?" she asked Percy and tried waving Fred's icy tickling fingers away from her neck.

"Ye– ye– yes!" Percy forced through another yawn.

"Dear, go take a nap," Molly told him, appearing at his side and dusting off the corner of his robe.

"No, I'm fine," he insisted and shook his head like a dog ridding its ears for water.

"Percy, you look awful, go lie down on the couch while I start dinner," Molly continued and viewed him critically. Nox silently agreed with her, Percy's short hair stood on end in the back as if he had ran his hands through it several times and his eyes were a delicate red around the blue, not to mention the dark shadows underneath.

"Okay, a small nap," he agreed and pushed the chair back to get up, leaving the egg custard untouched. Molly patted his back affectionately as he dragged his feet towards the sitting room, then she went on with the biscuits she had been in the process of making.

"D'you need any help with dinner?" Nox blurted, feeling she could at least occupy her time with something useful, as long as she got careful instructions.

"No," Molly said warmly with a knowing gleam in her eyes, "it won't be possible to wake him again for at least two, maybe three hours." Nox didn't argue with this, but flipped through the first pages of the book until she reached the title page.

"Hogwarts, yearbook 1993-1994?" she said, looking at Fred for an explanation.

"Yeah, I guess that's when Loony Lupin was teaching," he answered with a shrug.

"And?" She raised her eyebrows at him.

"And what?"

"And what it the name of nelly puffs are Hogwarts?" she asked loudly.

"Our old school, duh," he answered as if he had just told her the sky was blue.

"Hogwarts," she repeated sceptically. "What, Pigfarts was already taken?"

"Hey, don't insult good, old Hoggy-warts here, now," he said, almost sounding hurt. "Best school for magical kiddos there is. Right, Mum?"

"Of course," Molly answered absently with her nose down in a cook book.

"So you went there and learned to pull rabbits out of top hats," she muttered, flipping through the pages fast.

"No, that we had to figure out on our own," he said proudly. "If you're trying to find a picture of me, start by looking for fifth year Gryffindors."

She didn't ask, just scanned the top of the pages for any Gs before coming to a stop midway through the book. The page showed a gang of seven teenagers, all dressed up in some sort of scarlet sport uniforms. The twins weren't hard to recognise with their flaming hair and freckles, the faces were still the same, even if they were more boyish and their shoulders hadn't filled quite out to their adult width. Each of them held a bat, which they swung over the heads of their team mates every now and then with a laugh, and among all the red their eyes seemed clear blue with a heavy glint of mischief. The rest of the team seemed to accept their attitude and even adopt some of it, two of the three girls glanced over at them where they were positioned on each side of the group quite frequently in fact.

"Who's who?" Nox asked after reading the names under the photo, having passed the fact that the people in the frame was moving, she had seen more unsettling things as of late.

"That's Wood," Fred said, pointing a translucent finger at the brunette with a hard seriousness to his homely face, standing in the middle, "Katie, Angelina and Alicia" – the two first were now busy checking out each of the twins again – "And Harry. If you ever wanna get on Charlie's nerves, tell him that oink is a better Seeker than him."

"Sure," Nox answered dubiously.

"Sorry, forgot you detest fun," Fred said and turned back to the picture. "As for who's me and who's George, take a guess."

"That's George," Nox said half-heartedly and pointed to the twin on the right.

"You could be right," Fred agreed. "But you're not. Can't you see that's me?"

"You're like two drops of water!" she objected. "Only reason I can tell you apart now is that I can see through you!" There had been moments, in certain lights, where she had seen just how much the twins had been alike when they were both alive, and the photograph didn't dampen her conviction.

Fred was quite for a moment, then slapped the book close and pulled the stack of papers closer to them with a loud "Let's see what Perce have dug up, then!"

–  
Yes, Percy had done a good research and the potion both looked and smelled as it should, there was no need for nerves now.


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: There's a lot I don't like about this chapter, for one it's Shipping Heaven and I'm half-making Nox out to be a real babe, making guys drop left and right. But alas, something about the chapter seems right; if nothing else, tormenting Percy is fun.**

Loosening yet another knot in the green yarn, Nox gave a small yawn and looked at the clock hanging on the kitchen wall. It was less than helpful, even though 'not too long 'til bedtime' had a good ring to it to her, she was planning on seeing this night through together with the twins and their brothers.

–

Nox spent the time going over the notes with Fred, but neither of them were fully committed to the task, the shadow of Dartmoor and Rosewood Estate hung over their minds like threatening thunder clouds.

Dinner came as a relief, even if no one talked of much, Percy just poked a bit at the food before excusing himself to go upstairs. Molly looked concerned after him before asking about her husband's day, something that went completely over Nox's head, her brain was busy with other things.

After the quick meal she ended up in one of the slightly crooked hallways on the upper floors. The whole house was build like that, not a single wall was completely straight or a floor entirely level. She wondered absently if it was done on purpose to emphasise the unconditional love hanging like a haze over the entire property.

The sound of ragged and fast breathing ripped her out of a daydream and she went down the hall, pushing open the door without any concern for privacy on others behalf, mostly because she suspected it to be another of Fred's little jokes. Instead she found Percy sitting on his bed, his head in his hands.

"He-hello," he stuttered when seeing her, his eyes obviously ashamed for being found during this small hysteric attack, but that wasn't all.

"How are you?" she asked softly and took a seat beside him on the bed.

"We-we-well," he got out, "it's not m-me who is – I'm j-just..." His voice ebbed out as he looked at her and his breath went even faster.

"You're just?" she asked.

"I'm j-j-just tr-trying to ma-make things right," he got out. "E-even if it re-really wasn't my fau-fault – Merlin, I ha-haven't st-st-stuttered like this since I was eight!"

"Put your head between your knees and take a deep breath," she advised, placing her hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah, put my head between your knees and take a deep breath," he muttered while lowering his head, his breaths seeming to come a bit easier. She wondered for a moment if it was his idea of a joke, but it seemed more like a slip of the tongue from an over-worked mind.

"Deep breath," she commanded and he obeyed. As she sat there with her hand to his back, hearing him getting control of himself again, she couldn't other than muse over how different Percy was from his brothers. Just looking at them one knew he was nothing alike Fred and George, he was so much calmer of spirit, more book-smart and straight out more mature. She could freely admit she rather work with Percy than the twins, but that wasn't the situation.

Frankly, Percy seemed like the family's black sheep; sure, Mr. Weasley was calm and steady as a rock, but butter in his wife's hands. Bill, he scared her ever so slightly, at least made a shudder run through her. Even Charlie, with his easy-going attitude didn't meet Nox views on life. Maybe, just maybe, she had found a like-minded in Percy, someone to keep her from losing her marbles if she didn't get off the roller-coaster the twins' lives were.

"Thanks," he said hoarsely after a minute and she snapped out of her thoughts to meet his pale smile.

"Anytime," she answered automatically.

"I'm just trying to make up for my mistakes," he told her calmer and met her eyes straight on, asking for acceptance. "I made so many! I know it won't make things right, but I'm just trying to help George!"

"And you're doing great," she answered, a tad flatly, to his pleading tone. "If you'll excuse me, I'll have something to do." She didn't, not really, looking over her notes for the hundred time wouldn't likely help much, but she left him and went to her assigned room. She had been wrong about Percy, something that didn't surprise her, first and second impressions rarely lasts. He was a lost puppy, seeking guidance and acceptance everywhere.

–  
Feeling a bit bad about her harsh statement of Percy, Nox was still not inclined to make up her mind about him again. He was a good man, but not someone she would tolerate over a longer period. Luckily he was retiring to his own flat before sunset and she didn't have to worry about making small-talk with him.


	10. Chapter 10

Even if George had isolated himself for the last five hours, and didn't want a change in those arrangements, he found it a welcoming sight when Fred entered through the door, swept an icy hand over his twin's hair, and soundlessly laid down on the other bed. His presence was more than enough, not a word needed be spoken.  
They had come to the agreement of being at The Burrow for his first transformation due to its location in the country-side and the possibility of a werewolf on the run in London was much worse. Shell Cottage had been turned down because it didn't have a safe room for George to transform in, but he suspected it was simply because Bill didn't want a werewolf within a mile from his wife and daughter.

She slept deeply and dreamless the following night, but was hauled towards consciousness of an eerie, dragging calling of her name.  
"Nox... No-ox... Noxy!"  
"Yeah," she muttered as she opened her eyes to meet Fred's, his cheeks sucked in to make him look like a fish out of water.  
"Just thought it might interest you that George is down in the kitchen," he told her calmly.  
"Uh-hum," she grunted back before she got the real meaning of the words. Then she threw back the covers at once, sprinted down the hall and stairs, tripped on her own bare feet on the last step and fell backwards into Charlie's arms, hauled herself up without hearing his humoured mutterings before she stood in the kitchen, George grinning back at her by the table.  
"Wow, if I knew I meant that much for you I'd come sooner," he greeted her with, Fred already having taken the place at his side.  
"You're – you're not ill any more?" she said lamely and sunk down on the chair opposite him. At least he looked better, his colour was back and that half-annoying cocky smile.  
"Define 'ill'," he retorted, lifting his hand up from his lap. Nox couldn't keep herself from gasping slightly, his hand was still nearly twice its normal size and heavily coloured, now in purple and pink, but he had regained some use of his fingers. The bandaged was also free of any blood-stains, which she took as a good sign.  
"Here, dear." Molly placed a plate in front of George, and he grabbed his fork at once, eager to eat some proper food and not just the slops at St. Mungo's. Looking down at the plate, his expression turned to puzzled, the sausages, and even the eggs were cut into bite-sized chunks. Bite-size for a small child. With a shrug he nonetheless began digging in, humoured by his mother's attempt at babying him at the same time as he appreciated not having to deal with a knife.  
"So," Fred said, sitting down on the table to be more or less face-to-face with his twin and stretched his legs, "what took you so long? We've lost days of important work."  
"I figured I should be able to keep on my feet for more than ten seconds without fainting," George replied. "Would make actually working a bit easier." Truth to be told, the Healers had wanted to keep him longer, but he had talked his way out of the hospital to be able to finish the case and not just get frustrated with laying in the bed and thinking about it.  
"If you're interested, I could get you a reasonable price on dragon liver," Charlie put in, assuming it was work in the shop there was talk about, and possibly the invention of some new product.  
"Thanks, but not just now," George answered, finishing his breakfast and stood up, supporting himself on the table. "Now it's time to make up for the lost time." With a swift smile he headed for the stairs, Fred following him without questions. Nox sat still for a moment, then got up too, and followed their voices into their old bedroom.  
"Your family have no idea what you're doing, have they?" she asked as she sat down on the bed beside Fred, facing George on the other.  
"Nope," George answered and leaned back against the wall. "What progress have we made?"  
"Not much," Nox muttered at the same time as Fred answered, "Some."  
"Well, I went on a bit of a night-time expedition to Rosewood Estate," he elaborated as the two others fixed their eyes on him. "And that bloody giant tree tried murdering me! With gardening shears!" Nox and George stared at him, before the latter broke out in merciless laughter.  
"Shears!" George howled, clutching his arms over his stomach and snorting with laughter. "Tree tried to murder you!" Nox watched, slightly concerned, as he fell to the side, curling up on the bed as he kept laughing. "Merlin's pants, Fred!"  
"Well, it did!" Fred retorted annoyed, getting up to pace the small room, his eyes on the floor as he stepped on several scorched patches in the wood left by fire-crackers years ago. "I came there, looked around, and before I knew it, shakim! Almost took my head off. Then there was this screaming and a ladder fell down, blood-stained and... Would you stop that?" Fred launched at his twin, grabbing him by the waist to make him pull himself together, but George just yelped as Fred's icy fingers poked him in the ribs.  
"You stop it, before I piss myself," George gasped, writhing in mirth as he tried taking a proper breath. Fred got off and squatted down beside the bed, glaring slightly as George drew himself up to a sitting position again, leaning his elbows on his knees as he calmed down, snorting every now and then. "Sorry," he said at last, "think I'm a tad high on pain-killers."  
"A tad?" Fred replied, his usual grin in place again. "Anyhow, I got away as fast as I could, having a feeling the fact that I'm no longer alive wouldn't keep the thing from doing me in... Ended up nipping in on Miss Audra, a real vision all curled up around her pillow and a monogram on her thin night dress. Straight out cute in her sleep, as opposite to others I know." His eyes swirled around the room, ending on Nox.  
"Hey, you are not allowed to watch me what-so-ever –" she began, jumping to her feet and pointing a finger in his face.  
"George snores," he filled in, leaning back on the writing desk and crossing his legs. "Not everything is about you, Noxy."  
She huffed, sat down again and knotted her arms over her chest before saying,"So, back to those shears; they just came at you out of nowhere?"  
"Out of the tree trunk," Fred said, using the same grave tone as he had once used to try convince his mother it was pixies who had made a mess of the room they were now present in. Only two major things differed; he wasn't five years old and he was serious.  
"So we have a shear-slinging, ladder-dropping, bleeding apple tree," George summoned up. "Maybe it's having its period," he added with a shudder.  
"Doubt it," Nox said, jumping up and running out of the room. George massaged his right wrist absently while sharing a slightly confused look with his twin, who shrugged. Nox entered again a second later, flipping pages in her notebook while muttering softly to herself. "Let's see... Spirits can possess inanimate objects, right?"  
"Yeah," Fred answered dubiously.  
"Then I declare the case solved!" she said triumphantly. "The werewolf kills Catherine, her soul, or spirit, takes up residence in the tree and terrorise her sister Audra until she comes to us!"  
"That theory got about as many holes as a Swiss cheese," George answered and laid down on his back. "For once, it lacks a reason. Why would she haunt her sister? Why that tree? Correct me if I'm wrong, but I never saw Audra near it."  
"Of course she wouldn't go near it!" Nox exclaimed. "It's frickin' haunted!"  
"Finally some reason from you," Fred put in. "It is haunted, but the questions reminds by what and why. It's not everyone who comes back, even less as just spirits, you know. What happened to Catherine to make it happen to her?"  
"Werewolf!" Nox cried, grabbing hold of George's injured hand and waving it towards the ghost.  
"No," George said, shaking his head as he sat up and yanked his hand out of Nox's grip. "Not enough. And as for the werewolf itself, I think he deserves a little post-mortem visit."  
"Already done," Fred informed him. "I stopped by when I was in the area, he was actually back in his human skin, more or less, the canines still seemed a bit sharp. Couldn't say I recognised the bloke."  
"Okay, plan complete," George announced after a moment. "First, say nothing to Charlie, he's mad about any kind of magical creature and to find out a werewolf can turn back to a human after death – well, I'm dreading the mere thought. Second, get Nox out of her pyjamas. Third, take a trip to Dartwood Moor."

And so they had, solving the case with no more bumps in the road. Nox had been persuaded into moving into Weasley Manor, giving Fred the time of his life (or rather, death) with teasing her, and having the added bonus of each time he sat up for a high-five with George, the latter would forget both his injured hand and his twin's ghostly state, repeatedly slamming his hand in the wall, cupboard, or whatever else fitted, until he learned after the dozenth time it would just led to him howling in pain while holding his hand between his thighs, and Fred and Nox laughing their heads off.

**AN: I told you I was lazy about the ending of the case, but I did try at first!**


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: Okay, we're moving in a straight line now, no more back and forth, all happening on the same night, the night we've been going back to now and again.**

"Five Sickles someone's coming to get me within a minute," George muttered to the ceiling, seeing the golden glow of the sunlight almost gone.  
"I'm not betting against a sure thing," Fred answered, casting a glance over at his grim-looking brother. "Hey, lighten up! It isn't the end of the world, you know."  
"No, but it'll be the end of my taste-buds," George retorted as he sat up. "Heard the Wolfsbane tastes horribly, and the worse it tastes, the more it actually works." He made a face and shuddered.  
"Well, can't say I envy you that," Fred said, shaking his head. "At least you won't go berserk and kill half the village."  
"Thanks," George answered dryly. "If it works, I won't. If it don't, I'll do Charlie in first, make Bill experience what damage a transformed werewolf can do, gnaw Nox's bones dry for dessert, then nip upstairs for a snack on Mum and Dad," he rambled, before ending it all with a groan while burying his face in his hands.  
Fred calmly placed a hand on George's shoulder, before stating gravely, "You, my friend, have a bad case of nerves." George peeked up between his fingers, then snorted, he had a right to be more than a tad nervous. "And you know you haven't been doing yourself a favour by moping in here all day. Now, let's go down, crack a few jokes on the others' behalf, down a goblet of what most likely tastes like Snape's underwear boiled in tar and have a great night outside! It's not raining, it's not windy, and Charlie brought some booze, he'll be belting out 'The King is Gone' before the clock strikes three."  
"And such a lovely voice he has, too," George said sarcastically. With a sigh he nonetheless got up.

–  
Nox found herself curled up in an arm-chair, absently watching Bill carefully measure up George's dose of potion.  
"Man, I'm glad I'm not the one forced to drink that stuff," Charlie commented, already halfway down in his second glass of whisky. "It smells like... Well, honestly, it smells like the nappy of a dying child."  
"How picturesque," Bill said, setting the goblet on the table before reaching for his own glass of whisky as the twins entered.  
"Merlin's pants, Charlie, take a shower!" was George's first comment, pinching his nose shut. "Did you roll in dragon dung before you came here, or what?"  
"Ha, ha," Charlie retorted dryly, still grinning like an idiot, both in anticipation and in the reassurance that George was taking it all with a light heart.  
"Aww, little Noxy-poo has fallen asleep," Fred cooed, patting Nox's hair and making an attempt at cover her with a quilt, even though her eyes were absolutely open and glaring at him.  
"I'm not sleeping, you snot-rag," she retorted when he made some progress of fishing the blanket over her legs.  
"Well, you should be," Fred answered, crossing his arms and looking down his nose at her. "It's long past bed time for little eight-year-olds like yourself."  
"Get bent," she hissed back. The little row was broken by Bill clearing his throat and gesturing towards the gold-rimmed goblet with a look at George. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, George picked up the potion, doing his best to breath through his mouth to avoid the putrid smell as he lifted it towards his lips, and downed it all in one motion.  
"Good Godric!" Shudders ran through his body as he haphazardly put the goblet down to reach for one of the whisky glasses. Before either of his older brothers had time to react, he had drained that, too, which luckily erased most of the taste.  
"You better pray that didn't ruin it," Bill told him in a hard voice. He had spent a lot of time on the potion, making sure everything down to the slightest detail was right, and on top of it produced a golden goblet for it to be drunk from for maximum effect.  
"We'll find out soon enough," Charlie said, glancing out the window. "Sun's almost down." With a slightly shaking grin, George descended the stairs to the cellar, hoping the transformation went as smooth and pain-free as possible, and that he had not ruined the effect of the potion with the whisky. Fred followed him, confident it all went problem-free and the precaution of having him there to supervise and tell the other's it was safe was simply not necessary.  
Once they were down on the packed earth floor, the door was bolted behind them and the room cast in near darkness. George's eyes slowly adjusted to the dimness and he could soon make out the clothing lines behind Fred.  
"D'you think it's gonna hurt a lot?" Fred asked nonchalantly after half a minute in silence.  
"Not more than having my ear blown off," George answered absentmindedly. He knew all that stood between him, and Bill, Charlie and Nox was a couple of flimsy wooden boards. His parents were upstairs in their bedroom and the rest of the village didn't even have an idea what was going on. They would be taken completely by surprise.  
"Feel any different yet?" Fred questioned, leaning against the wall. George shrugged, just as he felt his spine bend and stretch in an unfamiliar way. Seeing a fault in their plan, he quickly tore off his shirt and got as far as wrenching his jeans down to mid-thigh before the transformation really got started.  
It was nothing like anything he had experienced earlier and nothing he could have envisioned before feeling it. It all seemed to happen at the same time, yet it felt like everything took forever. Some of his bones were stretched, other shrunk, yet other disappeared and new ones popped up. He could feel his kneecaps melting away and his fingers shortening, his feet stretching to unbelievable length as he fell forward on now fur-covered paws. Muscles were sliding around under his skin, feeling more like rubber bands than flesh. He lost all track of time in the nauseating feeling of his brain liquifying to fit his changing skull. His ribs produced forward, his waist narrowed, squeezing his intestines for a moment, before those too relocated. His heart was beating fast and his ears, now pointy and higher on his head registered his own whimpers and groans with painful accuracy.  
Then, suddenly, or maybe it had been that way for a while already, it stopped. He had another body, but still it didn't feel too foreign. He knew exactly where everything was, the paws on the floor, the tail slowly wagging back and forth, the tongue slightly stuck out between open jaws.  
"You okay?" Fred asked, clearly shocked and not likely to speak in anything but mutters. George narrowed his yellow eyes at the ghost, sizing him up, then let out a happy bark and ran over, doing his best to nuzzle the transparent form, snorting as he found it to be nothing more than cold air. "Yeah, you're okay," Fred said, chuckling softly as he ran his hand over the hole of the missing wolf-ear.  
George shook his head violently, sat down on his hind legs, then raised one to scratch furiously before snorting and shaking his head some more. Once done with this, his nose picked up the smell of human company and bolted up the stairs, putting his front legs on the wood before giving several loud barks.  
"It's okay, he's safe," Fred called and the door opened, showing Charlie and Bill ready with their wands just to be completely on the safe side. George gave another loud bark, then threw himself at Charlie, causing them both to topple over on the floor.  
"Wow," was all Nox could say as she watched the beast alternatively sniffing and licking Charlie, the thick, wagging tail a hazard for anyone that came too close. Charlie took it all with a grin as he was bathed in sticky saliva and had the snout of the large, grey-brown animal repeatedly shoved into his armpits.  
"Enough now," Charlie gasped out between laughter at length and George quickly obliged, making Nox his next victim. Seeing what way he was heading, she quickly backed up to the wall, not being thrilled by the idea of being tackled by a werewolf weighing between a hundred and fifty and two hundred pounds. George, however, quickly solved this problem by shoving his snout between her legs, drawing a deep breath of the exciting smell while Nox screamed "Hey, hey, hey!" Charlie came to the rescue, taking a good hold of George by the scruff of his neck and pulling him away.  
Regaining his common sense and pushing the wolf's need to inspect any thrilling smell his brain was bombarded with by his excellent nose away, George made the canine equal to an apology and dropped his head to the floor, laying one paw over his snout and whining while he kept his eyes on Nox's.  
"Don't ever do that again," she told him, but seemed to have forgiven him, for now.  
"Pfft, you liked it," Fred put in, grinning at her. She wisely chose to ignore him.  
"What's this?" Charlie had squatted down beside George and now ran his fingers over the place where an ear should have been, instead there was a dark hole, surrounded by hairless, red skin. "Itches, does it?" Placing his palm to the scarred wound Charlie began massaging it, causing George to sit up, panting in delight as his tail and hind leg drummed to the floor.  
"Maybe we should get outside before the whole house smells like dog," Bill put in with a smile in George's direction. "Mum would just be thrilled to find someone marking the couch as their territory." The werewolf reacted at once and ran through the room and barked several times when he found the closed door. Fred shook his head, amused of how much life it suddenly was in his twin, before following.  
"Relax, we have the whole night," Charlie muttered as he gathered up the glasses and bottle before joining the others in the yard. George had put his front paws on Bill's shoulders and easily towered his brother as he found the smells of soap, aftershave, a hint of healthy sweat, hormones and Fleur's perfume. After getting a nose-full of the last from the hollow of Bill's throat, George dropped down to the ground again and gave the older the best accusing look he could with his tongue hanging out of his mouth.  
"I'm married, I have the right to," Bill answered at once, crossing his arms over his chest. George snorted. "None of your business, anyway." George turned on his heel, making sure his thick tail hit his brother in the knee.  
"Everything is our business," Fred said, half-leaning, half-sitting on George's back. "And a perfect smell-detector might not be the worst –" His sentence was cut short when George bolted towards Nox and the glass of whisky she had just been offered by Charlie.  
"Hey, down boy, down!" Holding the glass as high as she managed while trying to push the beast off with the other hand, Nox felt all other than in control of the situation and was thankful when Charlie gave a sharp whistle and offered to pour the whisky straight down George's throat. After a few swallows the werewolf found himself done with that game and took what mostly resembled a victory lap around them and finished with a short chase after his own tail.  
"He's had enough now, he's enough of a handful as it is," Bill commented while George busied himself with some intimate hygiene.  
"Well, the night is still young," Charlie answered with a shrug and took a sip of his glass.  
"The last time you said that I ended up holding your head over the toilet while you puked your guts out," Bill said dryly, cocking a brow. Before Charlie could defend himself George shot off towards the forest, barking madly. The others followed, finding him nose-deep in a hole in the ground, still barking.  
"You silly thing, it was just a gnome," Charlie said, sitting down and wrenching the large, hairy head out of the dirt and buried his hand in the thick ruff of the neck. "Oh, you like that, do you?" It didn't take long before the scratching turned into a full wrestling match and all that was visible was grey fur, muscle-bulging freckled skin and the odd view of denim.  
"Oy, stop that now!" Bill shouted to get through George's growls, Fred's cheering, and Charlie's laughter and yelps. "It's all fun and games 'til sometimes gets hurt –"  
"Then it's hilarious," Fred supplied.  
"No, it's not," Bill answered, scowling. "George might not be raving now, but if he accidentally bites you we'll be going through the exact same procedure with you in a month." His blue eyes bore into Charlie's green ones and the latter got slowly to his feet, obviously looking ashamed of himself.  
"It was just a bit of fun and games, Bill, nothing happened and I know..." he said quietly.  
"Yes, you know," Bill answered and turned away. "But George obviously don't, he's showing as much responsibility as... as Fred."  
"Hey, is that an insult?" the ghost said, swelling slightly with anger.  
"Yes," Nox confirmed dryly from beside him, smiling slightly.  
"The point is, I think it's time for a little man-to-man talk," Bill continued, fixing his eyes with George's. "Well, almost-werewolf to werewolf, then." The corner of his mouth twitched and he beckoned the beast to his side before they sat off between the trees.  
"Okay, what's up with him?" Fred asked, still looking where they had disappeared.  
"A lot, and I'm staying out of it all," Charlie answered, sitting down with his back against a tree and filled his glass again.  
"Nox, follow them," Fred said absently and made his way up on a branch in the nearest tree.  
"What, you think you can just order me around like that?" she answered, fixing her fists on her hips.  
"Well, you're a detective and small enough to pass as a squirrel or something if you make a noise," he said and fitted his hands behind his head. "Or an elk, with those feet."  
"Except there aren't any elks in these woods," Charlie put in. "Beside, George would smell her as soon as she came within a hundred meters of them."  
"You're right," Fred said and sighed. "Make sure to have the wind towards you, Noxy. Maybe even take a shower first?" Not having any good replies, Nox turned her back on him and wished she at least knew of a place to go to get away from the ghost.  
"Bill's not telling him anything interesting, if that's what you're worried about," Charlie said, having found a toothpick in his pocket and put it to good use. "Prob'ly things like... boring werewolf-things, at least."  
"Like how to lick his balls?" Fred said and gave dry laughter.  
"One of the few things I think Bill's anatomy prevents him from doing, although he might ask Fleur – does it feel like it's gonna rain to anyone else?" Charlie's sudden stop in what he was about to say and his slight blush was more than enough to tell Nox he had momentarily forgot she was there.  
"No, not really. Might get more cloudy, though," she said, sitting down beside him to get the bottle resting between his feet.  
"Would be nice if it stayed clear," Charlie said absently, rolling the content of his glass around. "I hate stumbling through the forest when it's pitch-black. Once I managed to fall down a small cliff and land in a nest of prickly bushes. Now, I'm not a shy guy, but having another man pick thorns out of my bare butt while a dozen other stood around watching, laughing their heads off, isn't an experience I want to repeat."  
"Oh, don't worry," Fred told him in a mock-sweet voice, "if you run into some cactuses here I'm sure Mum'll be more than willing to de-torn you, and it'll just be me and George laughing."  
"What a comfort," Charlie shot back.  
"I've had a similar thing happen to me," Nox said, smiling at the memory. "I ran through some rose bushes when I was younger and the only one home was my father's secretary. Still, he handled the whole thing very soberly and didn't seem affected the least to have a half-naked twelve-year-old on his lap."  
"Oh, do tell more!" Fred had floated down to sit cross-legged in front of her, leaning forward and looked very much like a cat waiting for a can of tuna to be opened.  
"No," she answered flatly.  
"Come on, a bit more," Fred pleaded. "Give us some of the dirty details, how he stroke his hand over your non-existing tits, or something."  
"God, you're disgusting!" She crossed his arms and gave him a nasty look. "I know it's nothing but air between your ears, but that you could ever come up with something that disturbing..." She shuddered.  
"She's right, that was a low blow even from you," Charlie agreed, trying not to break into a grin from the cat-and-dog behaviour they were showing.  
"Fine," Fred sighed. "Is it my turn to tell a pain-in-the-butt story, then? All I got is when me and Georgie was experimenting with the Fever Fudges back in our school days. You see, we got these giant boils, all filled with stinking green gouge, which meant Quidditch practise wasn't a reason to celebrate any more. Sometimes they'd burst with audible pops and spray our underwear with pus. George still got pock-marks." A quiver went through his shoulders, but his eyes shone, egging Nox on.  
"If I take what I actually understood of that and twist it in the way you usually do, you're saying I would benefit from seeing George naked?" she said, cocking her head to one side with the same light in her eyes as him.  
"And you accuse me of having a dirty imagination!" The ghost put the back of his hand to his forehead with a deep sigh before all three of them burst out laughing.


	12. Chapter 12

**AN: And we're back at Shipping Heaven. Sorry about that, but I hope I've managed to explain it pretty good. **

As the waiting time for Bill and George to get back closed in on an hour, Charlie decided to go inside to get a candle, a new bottle of whisky and a pack of cigarettes. He tried offering the latter to Nox, who just shook her head.  
"Have you quit?" he asked casually as he used the candle to light his own cigarette.  
"Yes, actually," she answered, hugging around her knees to keep warm.  
"Just as good," he answered, leaning back against the tree trunk again. "I've tried myself, several times. The longest I think I went was five or six hours, all I could think about was that I couldn't, and then I wanted it even more. Working that logic a bit longer and seeing how mad my mother went the first time she saw me with a cigarette to my lips, it's a wonder the twins never tried. Starting, I mean."  
"We've tried," Fred told him. "Several times, but why keep up a bad habit that tastes like something crawled into your mouth and died?"  
"Good point," Charlie agreed and blew a puff of smoke in his brother's direction. Fred's transparent face features grew blurry for a moment before the small cloud dissolved. A far-off howl broke the silence between them.  
"Is Bill trying to teach the national anthem of Greece to my four-legged twin, or what?" Fred had got up and squinted into the woods in the direction where, sure enough, two sets of howling voices shattered the quiet night. "And it's taken them forever, too!" The ghost didn't linger any longer, but shot off in the direction of the choir. Charlie and Nox was left to make up their minds if they'd rather stay put and wait for the others to return, or go hunting for the sources of the eerie sounds with Fred.  
"You're cold," Charlie stated when he at last looked at Nox again.  
"No, I'm fine," she answered as he wrenched his jacket off and offered it to her.  
"You're shivering, take it, I'm fine." He bluntly wrapped the clothing around her, taking no heed of her feeble objections.  
"Well, thank you," she said at last when she had got her arms free. The leather smelled strongly of male sweat and what she assumed dragons must smell like, a strong burn at the back of her nose, and she could at least have fitted two of herself within the jacket, perhaps three.  
"Fred do have a point, though, it shouldn't have taken Bill this long to just have a little talk with George," he said, filling his glass to the brim again. "Maybe he wanted a chance at relieving his mind without George cracking a joke every two seconds."  
"You know them better than me," she admitted, feeling the buzz of the alcohol in her head and how relaxed her body was now it was warm again. "Not having George interrupt with a joke every two seconds sounds like a treat, though."  
"Yeah..." He put the glass down on the grass and Nox became aware he had somehow sneaked his arm over her shoulders without her noticing a second before he smashed his lips to hers and took hold around back to prevent her from escaping. Squirming in his arms and making as loud objections as she managed, Nox felt the muscular chest heave against her own scrawny front and the beginning stubble on his chin felt like sandpaper against her skin. In those few moments that felt like a painful eternity, she became all too aware of how defenceless she would be if he decided to take it further.  
At last he broke the kiss and looked into her eyes with hope and fear in equal measurements, resting his large hands on her shoulders and awaited her reaction.  
"Have you bloody lost your frickin' mind?" she shouted when realising it was over, then sprang to her feet and wiped the back of her hand over her mouth.  
"I'm – I'm sorry," he answered meekly and got up on his knees. "I didn't mean for it to be like that, it's just – it's gonna sound horrible, but..." His voice died away and he looked down.  
"I'm dying to get an explanation, it might as well be a horrible one," she said and tried washing the taste of him from her mouth with whisky. He took a deep breath to prepare himself.  
"Eleven and a half out of every twelve months the only company I have is other men, rude, smelly, disgusting men. Then, when I first get back into civilisation I'm so hungry for proper human company I put my foot in my mouth, and come across as a brute and a womaniser. I don't mean to and you seem like a nice girl and you work with my brothers, so I know where I have you, at least 'til I go back the day after tomorrow." He got to his feet and looked at her where she stood with his large jacket, a scowl, and her arms crossed. "Please forgive me. It was just a drunken kiss, forget about it. With some luck I will by the time I sober up." After a long look at him and a sigh, Nox nodded and let her arms fall. She didn't have anything personal against him, after all.  
"Booya!" Not having heard the running footsteps, Charlie was taken completely by surprise when Bill jumped up on his back, and went down face-first on the ground. "Hi, Charlie-boy!"  
"What the hell?!" Charlie had managed to wrench them over and now laid with a good hold on his older brother's shirt, tightening it around his neck.  
"We've come to the conclusion that just because it's a full moon is no reason for me to become a grumpy, old man, the world have enough of them, and they're twice my age," Bill announced happily, swallowing against the strain on his throat.  
"And that's reason enough to break my back?" Charlie growled. Bill's smile dropped at once, seeing his brother's angry face inch closer.  
"No, didn't mean for that to happen," Bill acknowledged. "You're not hurt, though?"  
"No, I... I just need a moment," Charlie muttered, got off his brother, and stalked off through the trees.  
"What happened?" Bill asked Nox as he stood up and began dusting dry leaves and pine needles from his clothes.  
"Nothing," she answered shortly, hugging the jacket around herself to avoid getting cold. George trotted over to her and put his nose to her palm and once he had confirmed the smell of adrenaline from her, nuzzled his cheek to her thigh.  
"I should maybe go talk to him," Bill mused, gazing in the direction Charlie had taken off.  
"No, don't bother, it's nothing," Nox said, having an irrational need to keep anyone from knowing what had happened. Bill gave her a look saying he knew it wasn't 'nothing', but he would let it pass for now.

**AN: That's it for now. Even though I got a good idea of what I want to write it's just not coming out right. Hopefully I'll finish it some day.**


	13. Chapter 13

**AN: My hard-drive crashed again so I lost lost the half of this chapter I had actually written along with everything else, so if it's some giant plot-hole or mistake, tell me and I'll fix it. Also, warning for potential character-rape and some drugs.**

It took surprisingly little time for the foursome to settle down again; George found a tree root to chew on and laid down over Bill's legs, who leaned back against a thick trunk of an ash, Nox wrapped herself in the jacket with mixed feelings and Fred laid down on his stomach, playing with the flame of the candle.

"You finally figured out oldest doesn't necessary mean old?" Fred said with a sidelong look at Bill, who only cocked a questioning brow at him while tugging absently on the other end of George's toy. The ghost pinched the flame between his fingers before explaining. "Just because you're the oldest of us doesn't mean you have to act Dad's age all the time. We are able to take care of ourselves."

"Lot of good that's done you in your days," Bill muttered back before turning his eyes to Nox where she sat huddled under a fir. "Just go in if you're cold, it's bloody freezing out here."

"No, I'm fine," she answered, drawing her knees all the way up to her chin under the jacket.

"Makes me miss Egypt," Bill continued, letting go of the root to tuck his hands into his armpits. "Mind, the nights we were outside would almost make this seem like paradise." He chuckled to himself, either recalling something or waiting for them to start asking questions.

"And what were you doing in Egypt?" she said at last as Fred rolled over like a lazy kitten to get closer to his brothers.

"The job description went something along the lines of rescuing goblin artefacts from tombs and pyramids. According to my mother and quite a few others I was a dirty grave-robber with no respect. She got over it, though –" Bill was cut off by a loud guffaw from George.

"If by 'got over it' you mean switched on yelling and crying for three weeks until you actually left," Fred put in, "then you're spot on."

"Well, it was dangerous," Bill said with a shrug. "But I didn't apply for no reason and they used so long time on training me I was on the verge of going back home several times before my first mission. Then it was two weeks on the back of a camel accompanied by the sourest goblin in all of Africa and removing three charms a twelve-year-old could have done. Still, I loved it and stayed."

"So the letters you sent to Charlie about all the drinks and girls were just you boosting your reputation?" Fred grinned from ear to ear and George gave a series of loud barks surprisingly alike laughter. "Or that you almost lost both your arms on that very simple first mission?"

"Well, I might've exaggerated a bit. And I slipped on some gunk," Bill mumbled as he Summoned and refilled his glass. "Bottom line is, I followed my dreams, scared the living daylight out of Mum with good reason and was happy."

"When you put it like that you almost make me think we're related," Fred said and put his arms behind his head.

"Heavens, you might be right," Bill retorted airy as George set off into the woods, barking like mad. In under half a second the three others were on their feet, cursing wildly, Fred going first. Bill had got his wand lightened, berating himself for not taking a simple measurement like a leash, even with the Wolfbane Potion George _was_ a werewolf, and it was too good to be true that they had got the potion perfect on the first try. They could clearly hear barking and screaming, Bill began digging up Disarming and Stunning spells from his memory, cursing Charlie for going off on his own. Nox passed him, even with her shorter legs she was making good speed towards the growling and barking.

"Nox!" he yelled, not keen on the idea that she should arrive unarmed to the scene of a rabid werewolf. His wand-light went out, he stumbled a few steps, got it lighted again and put in an extra gear to keep up with her. "Stop!" But she kept going.

They both came to a sudden halt when seeing the grey shaggy back bent over a feminine shape on the ground, a pair of yellow wellington boots kicking wildly and the screams and barks echoing in the tiny clearing. Bill lifted his wand, a heavy Stunning spell on the tip of his tongue.

"No, George, that's enough!" the form under the werewolf said in a shrill voice, followed by giggling. Bill's arm dropped at once, and taking in the full scene under the dark trees he saw George was acting like an affectionate puppy, not a raving beast, and Fred and Charlie were leaning leisured against a tree beside them. "Enough, now!" George was pushed away by two pale hands and the girl sat up, grinning at them.

"Lovegood?" Bill was so baffled the word just fell out of his mouth.

"The one and only Loony Lovegood," Fred confirmed and offered her a hand. It wasn't much help in getting up, but she accepted it, still giggling.

"What? You didn't attack her?" Nox asked George, having as the others expected to arrive to a much more bloody scene. He shook his head violently and sat down to scratch at his missing ear again, his tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth.

"Why would he?" Luna asked innocently, dusting pine needles and dirt from her floral printed dress.

"He – he's a werewolf!" Nox blurted as Bill sunk down next to a tree, putting a hand to his chest where his heart was still racing.

"Full story. Now," he demanded, halfway between relief and anger.

"I was out gathering purple daffodils," Luna began at the same time as Charlie said "I found her picking some flowers," and Fred offered, "He just wanted to see his _girlfriend!"_

"One at the time. Luna?" Bill had closed his eyes and was taking deep, conscious breaths. Nox took a small step back, it reminded her of the first time she'd seen him and didn't fancy being in the line of fire if he should start shouting.

"As I said, I was picking purple daffodils, which only blooms in the light of the full moon," she explained as she sat down next to the basked she had dropped in the surprise at seeing George, and began placing the fragile flowers that had fallen out back. "I didn't expect to meet anyone, but happened upon Charlie and he insisted that I shouldn't be out alone in the middle of the night. George really came as a surprise to me." She patted his head lightly as the werewolf came and sat down beside her.

"How did you know it was George and not some other werewolf who could've hurt you? How did you know George is a werewolf, anyway?" Nox asked, having only heard about the Lovegood-girl in a passing remark or two, but knew they were some sort of acquaintances.

Her question was met with a look saying the answer was right in front of her nose, but not everyone can have keen eyesight. "He told me," Luna said and began rubbing George's belly, causing his tail to thump loudly to the ground. "And there aren't any other werewolves in this forest." The other doubted the trueness of that information, but fact was that George had walked the paths around the Burrow many times the last month, both to think and to find traces of potential enemies. One day Luna had come over him on her search for some bark, he had pretty much spilled the beans right away, relieved to tell someone outside the family. She had taken the whole thing with total calm and asked what he felt was the right questions for him to say the thoughts that was frying his brain. Neither of them had stopped strolling the woods since that day and now and again they met each other for a talk.

"Can't believe your father let you wander around in the dark, though," Charlie muttered under his breath as he lighted a cigarette. The wind seemed to amplify his words, making everyone turn to him. He slowly looked sheepishly up at them. "I mean – there's a lot of other nasty things out here and – and, well, she's only Ginny's age." His cheeks were slowly reddening in the small glow from the cigarette.

"And just how old is that?" Fred asked, measuring up Luna quickly before fixing his eyes on his brother again, crossing his arms.

"Twenty-two," Charlie mumbled, staring at the forest floor. "Man, Bill, we're getting old." He shot his older brother a small smile.

"Better old than dead!" Fred stated and rubbed his hands together. "My dear canine twin, however, expresses a great need for a swim, and we'd both be grateful to have a stunning blonde with us." Luna lighted up. "Seeing as Bill left his wife at home, we'll have to do with you." It didn't seem to dampen Luna's spirits the least.

"I'd love to," she answered, blushing ever so slightly as George did a victory-chase for his tail and tugged at her sleeve.

"Wait a minute!" Charlie interrupted, crossing his arms. "Fred, he's a wolf, a _were_wolf, and you want us to believe you understand him just to get a girl naked? You didn't bring a swim-suit, did you?" The last was directed at Luna's back, she was letting herself be dragged away from the others.

"He could be transfigured into a chair and I would still know what he meant!" Fred answered, getting a sceptical look back. "'Get your big arse off of me.'" With that he joined George and Luna, now making good speed deeper into the forest. Charlie turned to the two left, opening and closing his mouth several times as he tried to find something to say.

"Come, then, watch out so they don't corrupt her completely," Bill said as he got to his feet. The two other's flanked him, following the sound of Fred's constant jesting. "You know, if I hadn't known better I would think you had a crush on her," he said good-humoured after a minute and nodded ahead.

"No," Charlie answered flatly, digging his hands deep in his pockets. "She'll just always be the neighbour-kid who chewed on my toys."

"Oh, so that's why you suddenly hid them all under your bed? Never could understand that." Bill was obviously in a great mood, taking long, carefree steps.

"She ate five pages out of a book. Including the framed pictures!" Charlie widened his eyes to make his point.

"Says the guy who managed to swallow building blocks." Bill chuckled to himself, but as the confused silence spread, he added, "You don't remember it, do you? You weren't more than four or five and we'd got some new toys for Christmas, including building blocks and one of them wasn't bigger than that you managed to swallow it. Mum was in complete hysterics, trying to make it come up again, then fed you half a ton of porridge when it proved to no avail. Never seen her as happy as when she changed your nappy the day after, though."

"Charming story," Charlie answered, not able to mask his amusement completely. "Never tell that to anyone else, or smash your nose right into your brain."

"Come on, it's a great story! And it did teach Mum never to let us have toys smaller than the fist of the youngest in the house." Bill couldn't stop smiling as they trotted on, the path wide enough for them to walk side by side, even if Nox's shoes got tangled in fallen twigs every other minute.

"You're awfully quiet," Charlie noted, leaning back to catch her eyes behind his brother.

"Oh, far too busy imagining you in a nappy," she retorted airy. Fact was that she felt like the third wheel on the wagon with the brothers and Luna all sharing a past. She had been prepared for it and if it hadn't been for the twins constantly teasing her about being a wuss for the past two weeks she would've been happily tucked up in her bed.

"You left the whisky behind?" Charlie said a bit too casual and breathed out a bit too deep afterwards.

"Yeah, we thought we were too busy stopping a murder to bother bringing it," Bill retorted, scratching his chin. Charlie shrugged and took up his wand as Nox bent down to untangle her foot, just in time not to get the bottle smashed into the back of her head.

"Sorry! Bad aim," Charlie apologised at once as he picked the bottle off the ground and uncorked it.

"Don't bother with the glasses," Bill said dryly as he removed the bottle from his brother's mouth to take a sip himself. Afterwards he offered it to Nox, who happily took a couple of swigs, she had figured alcoholism might be the easiest way to get by in a world of werewolves and ghosts and living trees. "You couldn't hit the ground if you fell," Bill added as Charlie reclaimed the bottle.

"Could too! And I have proof!" He reached for his belt buckle, but Bill put a hand on his wrist.

"Thanks for the offer, but our mission right now is to not corrupt girls," he put in with a grin towards Nox.

"Hardly think one half-naked man would corrupt me any more," she answered dryly.

"Oh, so you aren't twelve? Good to have that cleared up," Bill answered as they heard a scream and a splash. "My point was more that while we're here admiring Charlie's immaturity and scars, George is doing his best to drown Luna." He sat them all in motion again and in the matter of minutes they reached the small lake. George had a good chunk of Luna's dress in his mouth, dragging her outwards from the shallows while Fred had a good hold on his twin's tail, helping with the tug-o'-war.

"Hey, George, if you really want to wear that dress, just ask to borrow it!" Bill called as they sat down a good bit away to avoid being drenched. George pricked up his ear and barked once at them without letting go of the cloth before continuing.

"You're in a exceptionally good mood today," Charlie noted and lighted another smoke.

"And you're not, you're smoking like a chimney," Bill observed. Charlie shrugged, but gave in under his brother's stare.

"I'm currently looking at my little brothers trying to drag a girl into the water, one is a werewolf and the other is a ghost." His voice was hard and he took several angry puffs of the cigarette. "Sorry if that affects me the slightest." He put the bottle to his lips again and the glugging was heard for close to half a minute.

"Sorry," Bill said quietly. "But they're doing okay despite that, won't you say?" Charlie didn't answer.

"They're doing great, if you ask me," Nox put in quietly as the twins almost succeeded in making Luna fall over, instead she saved herself by taking a step forward and the water gushed into her boot. "To be a ghost Fred has a pretty good outlook on life. Or death, whatever you call it."

"And he's got a better chance at getting a date than me," Charlie grumbled and tipped sideways to rest against Bill as Fred went behind Luna and began pushing. Bill put an arm around Charlie and hugged him. "What's this?" Charlie said after patting Bill's chest, and pulled a joint out of the pocket there. "Oh, for heaven's sake! You're high, aren't you? That's what's up with your mood! Oh, for heaven's sake!" He jumped to his feet feet, glaring down at his brother, who looked innocently up at him.

"Maybe a little," Bill admitted at last. "Figured I shouldn't be a complete kill-joy. Didn't plan on you to take the job, though."

"Merlin's pant with a cherry on top." Charlie turned to leave, then spun around again. "I'm the one who's supposed to ruin my life with drugs and alcohol, not you! You're the guy who always got perfect grades, a perfect job, a perfect wife and a perfect little family and didn't even try a glass of wine 'til you were twenty!" He stood panting, the joint almost crushed in his hand.

"The last one is a plain lie and you know it," Bill retorted quietly.

"Well, as far as Mum knows –"

"And that's what goes?" Bill couldn't keep himself from smirking as Charlie deflated again, huffed and sat back down.

"You could at least have told me," he muttered and crossed his arms as the twins at last managed to bring Luna to her knees, followed by laughter and barking. "Sometimes, I hate you all."

"No, you love us," Bill retorted. "Now get out your lighter so I can hear you say it." Charlie sighed, then lighted the joint and took a drag.

"I still hate you." He relaxed against the tree and closed his eyes.

"Don't mind him, he's the weirdo in the family," Bill whispered to Nox, who snorted.

"To me, you're all pretty weird," she admitted, having snuck quite a few sips from the bottle while the brothers had their row.

"Guess it lies in the genes," he said with a shrug as Luna managed to excuse herself and crawl up on the shore where she emptied her boot before getting her wand out from the knot in her hair and began casting drying-charms on herself. "Maybe you wouldn't believe it, but the twins got a lot of their personality from our father. Always curious, always having to go their own way no matter what others think. It's paid off better for them than for him, though."

"Ever seen a black unicorn?" Charlie blurted suddenly. "You know, not a horse or a dystral or anything..."

"Speak English," Bill reminded his brother.

"I am!" Charlie objected. "But have you –"

"Then what the hell is a 'dystral'?" Bill inquired, looking at his brother's confused face until it finally dawned on him.

"Thestral!" Charlie shouted, then grinned sheepishly. "But, you know, they aren't unicorns, and black unicorns, ever seen them?" He was talking at an alarming speed and finished off with a deep swallow from the whisky bottle.

"No," Bill answered firmly at the same time Luna drifted over to answer, "yes."

"Really?" Charlie looked like a kid on Christmas morning, or as Bill would put it, like every damn time he was allowed to bring up a rare magical creature in conversation.

"Not as much black as purple," she admitted and crossed her legs. "I saw them at sunset last time I visited the Rocky Mountains. They were stunning where they stood completely still on a cliff, peach-coloured on their backs and manes, the horns golden, their flanks deep indigo and their bellies black as velvet." That her large eyes had drifted out of focus, a dreamy expression matching her tone of voice as she recalled the memory wasn't surprising, that Charlie matched it to the extreme Nox found slightly alarming.

"You sure he's all right?" she asked Bill after nudging his arm.

"I'd be more alarmed if he didn't look brain-dead," he retorted and took the butt of the joint out of his brother's hand to finish it off.

"Wish you could take me there once," Charlie admitted to Luna, neither of them fully out of the trance yet. "I love unicorns." The twins had finally got tired of the cold water and caught the last remark.

"Tell me, dear brother, is it dark there?" Fred asked as George trotted to stand directly in front of them all.

"Where? We're in the middle of the forest," Charlie answered, looking confused.

"Oh, no, I meant in the closet," Fred retorted with a grin as George shook himself well and truly, sending a freezing shower over them all.

"Was that necessary?" Nox said, glaring at George, who only stuck out his tongue and looked as happy as a pig in mud.

"Of course it was," Fred answered for his twin and sat down beside him.

"Hey, did you just accuse me of – of – " Charlie spluttered at last.

"Of being a fag? Yes," Fred confirmed. "But don't worry, doesn't mean I love you any less. Might cut down on the hugging, though." Charlie only stared at him, fisting his hands so hard his knuckles stood out white in the moonlight. Bill absently handed him the whisky.

"Fred, you are funny, but not too enlightened," Luna noted as she twisted her hair up in a knot and secured it with her wand. "Unicorns are creature of beauty, but also pure strength and I feel sorry for anyone who aren't able to see that." To Nox absolute surprise Fred seemed to be ashamed of himself for once and hung his head slightly.

"Just didn't sound too manly," he muttered, then cleared his throat. "You're not changing your life goal of becoming a crispy snack for a dragon, though?"

"Not likely," Charlie retorted lightly. "Can't very well cheat Mum out of saying 'I told you so' now, can I?"

"You really care about your mother, don't you? All of you?" Luna said, stating it more as a fact than asking.

"Yes. Yes, I do, and I'm not afraid to admit it," Charlie answered, setting his jaw like someone was about to object.

"She is pretty tolerant, gotta admit that," Bill agreed quietly, lowering his head.

"'Scuse me, we're talking about Molly Weasley here?" Fred said sceptically.

"If I had children and they ever put me through half of what we've put her through, I'd go insane," Charlie said as Nox got up, getting five pairs of eyes directed at her.

"Er, have to pee," she said lamely. In fact she felt more of an intruder than ever with them joking around about each other and talking about their family.

"Find yourself a nice bush," Fred said with a wave of his hand.

"Make sure it doesn't have thorns," Charlie advised as she departed. George put his head in Fred's lap, whining softly.

"What? Well, I'm not picking up after you," Fred answered. George gave another whine and laid his ears flat. "We now have a werewolf who's afraid of the dark and doesn't dare go to the loo alone," the ghost informed the rest, who instantly burst out in laughter. In response to this, George growled and slunk off in the opposite direction of Nox. "Fine, but if you're not afraid, why the bleeding hell do you want me to accompany you?" Fred yelled after him.

"You really do understand him," Bill said, slightly taken aback.

"Of course," Fred answered. "Just as well as Charlie can understand any fire-breathing lizard."

"You don't understand dragons, you read them and try not getting killed," Charlie said, scratching his head.

"Same thing," Fred retorted. "And what happened to all that 'dragons are just misunderstood'-speech you were so fond of?"

"You're confusing me with Hagrid," Charlie said. "They are deadly, but if you know what they need, what instincts they're working on, you can keep them alive and healthy."

"Of course, if you don't die first," Bill put in challenging.

"They've been on the brink of extinction for years, but they do have a purpose and we're slowly getting their numbers up again." His cheekbones flared red in delight, although his tone was calm and level.

"And what are their purpose, other than keeping you occupied?" Fred asked mock-innocently.

"Shut up," was all the answer he got from Charlie.

"They keep the Nonypies in check," Luna said, staring up at the stairs. "They are small goblin-like creatures that despise humans and would have gone to war 'til their was none of us left if it wasn't for the dragons, they don't dare come out of their underground caves as long as there's dragons on the earth."

"As good an explanation as any," Bill said under his breath. "George didn't say anything of how long he would be?"

"Not long," Fred answered. "Any particular reason why you inquire into the speed of our bowels?"

"We're supposed to look after him," Bill answered. "It's a bit easier when he's within eye's reach."

"And how far does your eyes reach?" Fred retorted, grinning. Bill sighed.

"I'm on Charlie's side now, shut up," he said and leaned his head against the tree.

"You're not tired, are you?" Fred's voice was dripping with fake concern.

"Yes, I'm old and tired," Bill said, the corner of his mouth lifting a fracture.

"And hungry," Charlie chimed in and leaned himself on Bill again.

"Finally an answer to the mood-riddle," the older muttered. "You ate fine at dinner, though?"

"Dinner's a long time ago," Charlie answered and sighed.

"For goodness sake, could the two of you be any more boring?" Fred burst out.

"Did you know they passed a new declaration for the appropriate diameter of cauldrons?" Bill kept his voice dull and put his arm around Charlie again, it was better than almost getting his shoulder dislocated from the weight.

"Really? I didn't even know there was such a thing." Charlie yawned and pulled his legs closer to himself as George trudged over to them on silent paws and laid himself down with his head on Bill's thigh and his body along Charlie's shins.

"Oh, so now we're sleeping?" Fred exclaimed. "Well, maybe I'll get a little epiphany or something..." Grudgingly he laid down on his back with Bill's other thigh under his head and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Come on, Luna, we don't bite," Bill told the girl, who seemed to have no objections to use him as a pillow, or to interlace her fingers with George's fur. To be honest he didn't mind it himself, it was warm, although he did wonder fleetingly how much had been in that bottle of whisky.

"I did not know Percy-ness was contagious!" Fred had closed his eyes, but didn't look much relaxed.

"Shut up," Luna whispered and giggled.

**OoO**

When Nox returned to them after walking around the small lake it was to find a chorus of snores which Charlie seemed to be leading with his nose deep into the fur of George's throat. The werewolf lifted his head a fracture when she approached, looking at her with deep yellow eyes and his one ear pricked up at a right angle. When she didn't make any move to join their slumber party, or even sit down, he shot a look at the nearly empty bottle of whisky before fixing her eyes on her again. She let out a heavy breath, then sat down between Bill and Fred's body, still keeping eye contact with him.

"I'm gonna use all my money on booze if I keep working with you," she said and put the bottle to her lips. He cocked his head to one side. "Well, I'm not used to this whole... you know, magic and monsters and stuff." He let his tongue roll out, smiling as best he could. "Hey, this isn't a joke! Okay, I'll stop being so stuck up and lie down, then." She finished the bottle, corked it, and laid down with her head just above Bill's knee. She didn't know what she was more worried about; the fact that she had understood George, that she was using a stranger as a pillow, or that she didn't really care about either of those things. It just _was_, and that might be a healthier look on life with the twins than turning to alcohol. Slowly she drifted off with George's foul breath warming her neck.

They didn't know quite how long they dozed there, but by the time Fred awoke and stuck his icy hands literary under Nox's ribs where she was lying right in front of him and woke the rest with her scream, the sky was lighter. Sunrise was still a while away, but the stars were fading and the absolute dark was lifting.

"Morning?" Charlie had sat straight up, looking out from half-closed lids at the others.

"Not quite," Bill informed him. "That does not mean there's any need to lay back down," he added as he stood up, trying to get the numbness out of his legs by flexing them. George had sat up and began to scratch at his missing ear again, but Luna came to the rescue, keeping him from drawing blood.

Nox was about to explode on Fred again, standing with her hands fisted at her sides and her face alternatively red and white. He looked at her with calm anticipation until she burst out with "You're an idiot!" She wasn't awake enough to come up with anything else, but he started laughing anyway.

"That big of a show, and all you can come up with is that I'm an idiot?" he asked between gasps, clutching his stomach. "Oh, I do love your vocabulary." She was still bristling, but turned her back on him with a huff.

"Look!" Luna whispered and pointed across the water where a small form was jumping in and out of the bushes, sometimes nearing the water to drink, sometimes almost hidden.

"A rabbit?" Fred asked, squinting through the gloom.

"No, don't think so," Bill answered, putting a hand on George's neck as he gave a growl so deep it was just a vibration in the air.

"If it's not a rabbit, then I have no idea," Charlie said, rubbing his eyes. The small animal disappeared into the bushes again and was gone.

"I'm not sure what it was, either," Luna admitted and George looked surprised up at her, she usually had an explanation for anything, even if they tended to be a bit out there.

"Maybe we should start going back," Bill said. "It's a good couple of miles back and I don't know what kind of shape George's gonna be in when the sun's up, would be nice not having to drag him the entire way."

"Since I'd most likely be doing the dragging, agree," Charlie said, running his hand through his tousled hair. "My neck and back's stiff as a board." He stretched, grimaced, and looked at the others for sympathy.

"Complain away, you didn't have five hundred pounds using you as a mattress," Bill retorted, seeing George leading the way for Fred and the girls roughly towards the Burrow. "Looks like we have to keep up." It didn't take long before they were gathered again, the werewolf trotting in front, looking like he hadn't a care in the world.

"It was a pleasure spending the night with you," Luna said suddenly, walking beside Fred.

"You, too," he answered and chuckled. "Although, if anyone ask you might not want to say 'I slept with the Weasley brothers.'"

"Why shouldn't I? That's what I did." She looked at him with true innocence.

"Well, wouldn't hurt my reputation, but Bill being married and all..." He shrugged and grinned at his brother.

"Just make sure to specify the circumstances," the other advised, which George gave a growl to. "Or not?"

"Wouldn't be good for business to have the whole world know George isn't quite himself once a month," Fred clarified as they began climbing a small hill.

"Maybe just keep quiet about the whole ordeal," Nox offered, knowing herself wouldn't talk about this night to anyone. She had been scared, assaulted, ridiculed, frozen half to death, got too much to drink and wasn't in a mood to think lightly of it.

"You two should maybe just head back home," Bill said, addressing Nox and Luna. "I'm sure Mum have something ready to warm you." He hugged around himself to signal he wouldn't have turned the offer down.

"I'd kill for just a cup of tea now," Charlie put in, a shiver running through him where he was standing in a sleeveless t-shirt.

"Take your jacket, at least." Nox didn't trust Charlie to give up the gentleman-nonsense and threw it at him from where she was standing and instantly began freezing. "We'll see you in a while, then." She turned on her heel and hoped she had the right direction. Luna gave a little good-luck wave to the twins before following her.

"You forgot to bring him some clothes, didn't you?" Charlie asked quietly as they ascended the hill, the twins a few step ahead of their brothers.

"Yeah," Bill said and sucked in a breath. "Got a blanket, that's all. And I'd like to know why he insists on going up here." It would be much easier if the transformation back took place just outside the property line of the Burrow, but George had made up his mind and Bill was too tired to argue about it.

Once on the top of the hill they came to a clearing, where George had laid down in the middle and Fred was slowly patting his head. Dawn wasn't far off and Charlie came to sit on the other side of the werewolf, laying a hand on his back. Bill stopped for a moment, surveyed the sky, then pulled a cloth about the size of a handkerchief out of his pocket and reversed the shrinking spell. Spreading the blanket over George, he sat down on Charlie's other side.

"Half an hour or something?" Fred asked absently as they all stared at the sky, seeing it turn lighter by the minute.

"Maybe," Bill answered.

And so they sat, waiting for the sun to rise above the horizon, above the trees. No one said anything, but George sighed every now and then, growing impatient as always. Charlie covered his paw with his hand, while Fred had a small crease in his brow, no more patient than his twin.

Slowly the sky turned blue, the difference between light and shadow became clearer, the grass regained it's colour and George tucked his snout under his foreleg as the first rays hit them. His brothers turned to him, Charlie tightening his hold on the paw and George began shaking. Then his snout pulled in towards his face, the fur receded, his bones cracked and reformed and his red hair returned. The others simply stared, it wasn't anything else to do, until George groaned.

"How do you feel?" Charlie asked and leaned closer, still holding what was now a hand.

"Pretty miserable," George croaked and curled up under the blanket, not ready to meet anything at the moment. Charlie looked at Bill, who only nodded.

"You can't lie there on the ground," the older said and moved to lift George up by the shoulders. The sore muscles objected, and so did George, but he didn't manage words, moaning had to do.

"Would hate to see you freezing to death now," Fred quipped in. " Believe me, it's not that fun being dead."

"Living doesn't seem like such a treat at the moment, either" George snapped, then let his head loll down on his chest as Bill and Charlie took their place on either side of him.

"Okay, come on, big guy," Charlie said as they took hold of his upper arms and hauled him to his feet. "You chose to come here, you chose to have a bit more of a walk back." George groaned, his knees wobbling as he tried gathering the blanked around his naked body. Bill helped him before they began marching him down the hill.

"Well, the night hasn't been a complete waste," Charlie mused as they got down on the path again.

"Speak for yourself," George retorted as he stepped on yet another pine cone and almost lost his balance. Having his brothers there to hold him upright was all right, but they had shoes and took no notion of what the forest floor consisted of or where they led him.

"I think even Nox enjoyed herself a bit," Fred said, grinning. Bill snorted, not because he doubted his brother's words, more what parts he thought she had enjoyed. The forest was thinning a bit and as they passed their first camp Charlie picked up the glasses and candle, humming to himself.

"O-de-lally, o-de-lally, jolly what a night," he sang quietly to himself as they entered the yard of the Burrow.

"You're on over-time," Fred noted dryly, making his twin crack a tiny smile, they had missed out on hearing Charlie's voice scare all living things in a mile's radius. At last they stumbled into the kitchen and George was deposited on a chair beside his mother.

"You really do look awful, dear," she said softly and got up to cup his face in her hands, turning it towards the light. He was pale, his eyes weren't just red-rimmed, they were completely pink, he was not able to get her into focus and his hair hung limp along his cheeks.

"Better than Bill, though," he answered weakly. She kissed his forehead quickly before getting him a cup of sweet tea. "'S warm," he murmured after taking the first sip.

"It's tea, it's supposed to be warm," Fred chuckled from the corner, when worn out his twin had the mental capacity of a peanut.

"Unless it's ice tea," Luna offered, sitting opposite George and observing his slow sipping, his forearms quivering.

"Any of you want anything to eat?" Molly asked the room at whole and the spirit lifted.

"Yes!" Charlie said and hiccoughed. "But I'll do it, Mum, no problem."

"I wasn't up before dawn to watch you ruin my pans," she answered and slapped away his hand as he reached for a frying pan. "Now find yourself a cup of tea and sit down!" He lowered his head, but couldn't keep from smiling as he fixed tea for himself and Bill before sitting down beside Luna. George was about to nod off and Bill saved the cup before sitting down himself.

"You want to stay for breakfast or go to bed now?" he asked as George shook himself a bit, but didn't pick up the cup again.

"Bed," George croaked. His throat felt as if he had swallowed large glass shards, and that was the least hurtful thing as long as he didn't speak. The tea had helped a bit, but the first couple of swallows hadn't been a walk in the park.

"Come, then," Charlie said as he got up and he and Bill supported George up the stairs. He was now shaking both with weariness and cold, and dropped the blanked halfway up the first flight. Nox eyes instantly went wide before she looked down in her cup and blushed.

"He does have cop-marks," she mumbled to herself.

"Told you," Fred answered, hovering behind the girls.

George didn't bother keeping himself from groaning as his thighs protested each step up, bumping heavily into his brothers as he gave up, swallowed hard, and went on. It seemed to go all to slowly, that it would never end, cursing his parents for putting the twins' room so far above the ground, until finally the burnt smell their first experiments had left met him. He sunk down on the bed, let Bill lower his torso down on the mattress while Charlie lifted his feet, and closed his eyes.

"Still miserable," he murmured as he was tucked in, although he was past the stage of caring, past wanting to be an adult, past anything that had to do with his usual self.

"You're not going to be sick or anything?" Bill asked, a crease appearing between his brows.

"Sincerely hope not," George answered, it would kill him to move a single muscle and the mattress was slowly forming itself around him.

"You want one of us to stay?" Charlie asked, but the only answer he got was an unintelligent noise from the back of George's throat. "He admitted defeat now, didn't he?" He turned to Bill, who looked more worried than Charlie could remember seeing him since the War ended.

"Death doesn't kill them, but this..." He was staring intensely at the form in the bed, the covers rising slowly and steadily with each breath.

"Explanation, please," Charlie said, having a pretty good idea at what his brother was getting at. Bill sat down on Fred's old bed and put his head in his hands.

"When Fred died, he was hurt, he didn't talk as much, but he still joked and refused any pity or help or anything in those two weeks before... before he came back. Now... he didn't mask his pain, he didn't try for himself first, he didn't even joke that we were babying him." Bill spoke as if to himself, then looked up at Charlie. "That worries me. And once every full moon?" The pain was plain on his scarred features.

"I know," Charlie said quietly. "But he's sleeping now. And maybe the next time won't be as bad."

"Maybe." He didn't sound too convinced, but got up and left for the kitchen again. Charlie took one last look at the bed, pulled the covers better over George's toes, then went to join the rest for breakfast.

**AN: In case you haven't noticed, I have no idea what to do with Luna once I got her into the story. I just don't know how to write her, honestly, but at least I've tried.**


	14. Chapter 14

**AN: I suddenly just squeezed out this chapter yesterday, and honestly I don't really know what's going on in it. It (hopefully) has some fun parts, though. And for some reason the word count here on FF is very different from the word count on the Word-document, so I'll just hope it's two different ways of counting words. It all seems to be here, but I can't be bothered to read too notice, sorry.**

They ate mostly in silence, then dragged themselves up to their assigned rooms, or as Bill and Luna, took the Floo to their own homes. The only one who seemed to be in any mood was Fred, but even he was quieter as usual, even polite as he wished everyone a good night (or day, the sun had climbed quite a lot) before going up to his twin.

It was well into the afternoon before Nox woke again, her head feeling too heavy, but already ashamed of how she was acting like a guest; sleeping away half the day wasn't her idea of polite. She quietly made her way down to the bathroom, it didn't seem like that many others had got up, either, so at least that spoke in her favour.

"Oy!" Pushing open the bathroom door, still half asleep, she was met with a primeval shout and Charlie trying his best to cover himself with the pink towel he had been drying his legs with.

"Sorry!" She had already slammed the door shut again and was making her way hastily down the corridor before the blush began. Mentally hitting herself for not knocking, and Charlie for not locking the door, she nearly stumbled on the top step of the next stairwell, but a strong hand caught her elbow.

"Hey, wait." Charlie spun her around and positioned himself in front of the stairs. He had got the towel around his waist, firmly fastened with a knot, but not being in a mood meet his eyes Nox was stuck staring at his chest. "I'm sorry, too."

"Well, you should've locked the door," she pointed out, crossing her arms and hoping to be let past as soon as possible.

"Yes, that too," he admitted hastily. "I'm sorry about that kiss, and... you know."

"What kiss?" she shot back, raising her eyes to his in an icy glare. It seemed to be relaying a bit too much on coincidence, but she was half-convinced he had meant her to see him naked to... God knows, show off the goods?

"Oh, yeah, right, we forgot about it," he answered after a moment of bewilderment and let her pass. She didn't hesitate, but after the first four or five steps stopped her stomping, George for one would probably still be sleeping and if it kept it out of her hair he could stay that way for a few more hours.

Passing the twins' old room she couldn't pretend not to hear the deep groan coming from there. A nightmare was a thing that could wake George and didn't quite fit into her plans, so she couldn't help herself not to take a peek through the half-open door.

The next sound George emitted would've been a purr if he was a cat, and Nox hastily retracted as she saw the blonde straddling him, she had no desire to watch or hear _that_. Having taken half a step past the door, she stopped again and leaned back, assuring herself of what she had seen. Luna seemed to be fully clothed, and George's feet were sticking out at the bottom of the bed, toes pointing downwards.

"A bit lower... There," George groaned as Luna leaned most of her body weight on her hands and his sore back. Rolling her eyes, Nox continued quietly downwards.

The kitchen smelled of bacon and eggs, and by the look of the number of pots and pans Mrs. Weasley was in the process of preparing, would soon smell of a lot of other things, too. She gave Nox a distracted smile and waved her wand towards the tea pot, which quickly poured a cup, two sugars were added by the sugar bowl, a tea spoon jumped up from the drawer and the cup itself soared over to where Nox was about to sit down. She smiled slightly and wrapped her hands around it before looking out the window.

There were a few clouds in the sky, but for the moment it was sunny, and the chickens seemed to take the most advantage of the weather, if anything substantial could be said for the way they were pecking at the ground and rolling in the dust of the driveway. A squirrel zoomed up and down a birch, probably trying to figure out how to jump to the next tree, and an old Toyota passed slowly on the road, the driver not seeming to notice anything short of a tank.

Nox raised the cup to her lips and blew slightly before taking a sip, but her instincts decided to throw the cup halfway across the room as what looked like a ball of really old, really filthy rags hit the window. She cursed under her breath as the hot liquid hit her hand before looking up at whatever it was that had been hurled at the window.

"Errol!" Mrs. Weasley had hurried over at once, but instead of offering assistance to Nox she was now leaning over her to open the window and get the miserable creature inside. Stuck partly under the other woman's bosom, Nox plainly had to wait a few seconds before getting a look at what Errol was, and then got to wonder why Mrs. Weasley was cradling the ancient owl in her arms like a baby.

"You're really getting too old for this," the redhead was cooing as she placed Errol on the counter next to the tea pot and relieved him of the letter he was carrying. "I keep telling you, we could get a new owl, someone to take the longer runs, but no, you don't want to retire, you want to keep going till you drop dead on my doorstep!" She placed a few owl treats in front of him while opening the letter and read it while absentmindedly stirring one of the pots. Errol emitted a weak squeak before gobbling up the treats.

"What a... lovely bird," Nox muttered half-heartedly before going to clean up the tea mess. She grabbed a rag from the sink and quickly mopped up the tea before going to refill the cup. "Er... Is he supposed to look like that?" She had stopped in front of the counter, looking suspiciously at Errol.

"Oh, don't worry, he'll be fit as a fiddle in no time," Mrs. Weasley assured her without looking up.

"Uh-huh," Nox said dubiously and poked the owl, who didn't respond. "It's just... He's purple," she said at last, getting Mrs. Weasley to look up from her cooking, her eyes going as big as saucers as she saw her beloved owl, now resembling more of a feathered egg-plant.

"FRED!" The bellow was so spontaneous Nox didn't have time to cover her ears, just cringe. Mrs. Weasley was furiously looking around the room before a transparent head emitted through the wall above the stove.

"You called, mother dearest?" Fred said in his sweetest voice and instinctively ducked the towel she threw at him. It landed on the pan with eggs and bacon, and Nox snatched it away before it got time to start burning.

"What now?" Charlie came slowly through the door, taking in the scene while digging his hands further down in his pockets.

"That!" Mrs. Weasley screeched and pointed a quivering finger at Errol, who just looked stupidly around himself and not having the slightest clue as to what was going on.

"It's harmless, really," Fred defended himself with and came all the way through the wall.

"He's purple!" His mother was giving him a very dangerous look and Nox figured Fred should count himself lucky he was already dead. Charlie scratched his chin slowly before going over to inspect the owl.

"He seems all right," he said slowly after having checked the owl's vital signs, eyes, and having carefully pulled out its wings to inspect the feathers. "At least not worse than he normally is," he added quietly.

"What did you do?" Mrs. Weasley demanded, boring her eyes into Fred. "Was it the owl treats?"

"Might have been," Fred answered airily. His mother snorted before scooping the owl up into her arms again.

"You haven't an ounce of respect for anything, not even other living creatures!" she exclaimed before stomping up the stairs.

"What? That owl is three inches from death's door, if that much," Fred said to her back, before looking at his brother for help. "I'd be doing us all a favour by giving him a nudge."

"I hope for your sake he doesn't stay purple," Charlie said and crossed his arms.

"Of course not, he'll be back to the regular, boring mud-brown in a few hours, a day tops," Fred answered before seeming to notice Nox. "Why are you just standing there? Start eating before you starve to death on the spot!"

"Don't worry," she answered dryly before sitting down with her freshly filled cup of tea.

"Well, it looks like it's self-serve here now, so holler if you want anything," Charlie told her before getting himself a plate and loading it up with eggs, sausages, bacon, toast, beans, and a few other things Nox wasn't able to identify under everything else, before sitting down opposite her.

**OoO**

George and Luna didn't show up for another few hours, but Nox was glad when they finally did and she didn't have to keep constantly dodging Fred. Molly had also come down again, having installed Errol safely in her bedroom, and resumed the cooking, making sure there was a steady supply of fresh, warm dishes.

"Nox, you're eating like a horse," George noted when she got up to refill her plate for the third time. He himself was only poking at the half-finished eggs on his plate, but had eaten at least half a bread's worth of toast.

"Or a dragon," Charlie added humorously while nibbling on a sausage.

"Well, this food is actually edible, in contrast to everything you cook up," Nox answered and loaded another couple of strips of bacon on her plate.

"At least my cooking resembles food," George muttered back and stretched his neck. Luna placed her hand on his leg and gave him a quizzical look, but he responded with a reassuring smile. He was still horribly stiff in every muscle in his body, but it was slowly getting better. In a week's time he might be able to walk without groaning.

"Mum, have you heard anything from Bill?" Charlie called into the living room, where Molly was busy untangling her knitting.

"Yes." She came marching in, knitting in one hand and a ball of string bouncing behind her, and began patting over the clutter on the counter before coming over the scrap of paper Errol had delivered earlier. "He said you could come to dinner if you have the time, but to keep the twins far away from him," she said with a knowing smile as she handed over the note. Charlie read it quickly before nodding.

"Doubt I'll have any room for dinner, but I'll stop by them," he said before continuing to eat.

"Keep going like that and you'll blow up," Fred told him before hovering over, his nostrils expanding as he tried to smell the food. "Even if Mum's cooking is good you're over-doing it."

"It's not canned," Charlie said dryly, "and I'm gonna use the opportunity for all it's worth even if it's the last thing I do."

"You living and your stupid senses," Fred mumbled before casting a look over at Luna and George. "And your even stupider urges. Oy, lovebirds!" he added louder.

"Oy, pea brain!" George responded without looking up.

"Oy, Nox doesn't have anything to do with this," Fred countered and snickered. She gave him a cold look before turning back to her plate.

"Fred, your brother is still tired from last night," Luna told the ghost, her large eyes boring into him. "Please give him some peace and quiet."

"What, you're getting too old for an all-nighter? Wimp," Fred leered back.

"An all-nighter which consists of breaking every bone in my body twice? Yeah, I'm a tad too old for that," George answered hard.

"You'll be screwed when you're actually dead," Fred replied sourly before vanishing with a _crack!_ George let his fork fall down on his plate with a sigh before looking to where his twin had been.

"Ass," he muttered.

"He'll be back," Luna said assuring and tried stroking his hair, but he leaned away from her.

"Good, then I can exorcise him or something," George said before slowly getting up and hobbling towards the stairs. No one tried to stop or follow him, they just stared numbly in different directions.

"I'll go talk to him," Charlie said at last and stood up.

"No, I'll try," Nox offered. "You go and see if you can find Fred."

"You sure?" Charlie gave her a doubtful look.

"All I can do is fail, and then we can switch," she answered before getting up herself and heading for the twins' room. She found George lying on the rumpled sheets of his bed, staring up in the ceiling and giving no sign he heard her come in. She slowly sat down on the other bed and looked at him, waiting for either him to acknowledge her presence or some great opening line to come to her. The former happened first.

"He's an immature idiot," George muttered at last, but didn't move his eyes from the rafters.

"He is," Nox agreed. "But so are you."

"Gee, thanks."

"You know what I mean. You're a good team." She began pleading the sheet between her fingers.

"He's all over the place, all the time," George said and adjusted himself on the old mattress.

"And you just want some peace and quiet?"

"Sort of," George muttered and fell silent for a while. "I mean, he's a ghost, most people feel weird talking to him. Lee is okay with it, though, Angelina too, to a degree, but everyone else just sees the ghost. Except me, I still treat him the same." Nox nodded and chewed her lip. Fred had become too dependent on his twin, while George needed a bit more room than he was given.

"Can't you talk to him about it?" she suggested, but heard how lame it sounded the moment the words were out.

"I could, and he would throw another tantrum," George said matter-of-factly. "And really, with Mum and Bill and everyone throwing a fit over the whole..." He waved his hand vaguely in the air. "You know, werewolf thing, I don't need him to go off on..." His voice died out completely and Nox noticed he had knitted his brows.

"It's not Fred bothering you," she concluded. "Or at least it's not Fred not giving you room."

"Those giant flabby things on the side of your head, they just look like ears, right?" he retorted sarcastically. "I just told you he's acting like a puppy desperate for attention all the freaking time."

"True enough," she admitted. "But it's the werewolf thing that's really nagging on you."

"Oh, I'm not allowed to worry about turning into Scooby Doo from Hell every full moon?" He hoisted himself up on the elbow and gave her a narrow look. She just raised an eyebrow and gave him a knowing look.

"You know who Scooby had to turn to every time things got hairy? Shaggy," she responded after a while.

"Noted," he answered dryly. "I'll put in an ad in The Prophet: Part-time canine in need of full-time stoner."

"Idiot." She couldn't help but smile slightly either way. "Fred is your Shaggy."

"That's a crappy analogy," he answered and fell back on the mattress. "Besides, Fred is too much of a pain to be Shaggy. He's probably more like that god-awful puppy, what's-its-name—"

"Scrappy."

"Scrappy. And when it comes to eating, Charlie is a much better Shaggy. And I don't have a speech impediment, so I'm not Scooby, I'm that handsome blond guy." George nodded to himself.

"Fred," Nox supplied.

"Blimey, would you shut up about him? If I didn't know better I'd think you fancied him." Despite the joke he still sounded annoyed.

"The blond guy's named Fred," she clarified, getting annoyed herself.

"Well, good for him," George said. "Now I'm him. I'm Handsome Fred."

"Okay-dokey, George is Fred. And Fred is George." Nox was rewarded by a cold look, but didn't let that faze her. "If you would just listen to yourself for two seconds you could have solved all of this."

"Nope, I don't have a Mystery Machine," George answered stubbornly and she rolled her eyes.

"Talk to Fred about the werewolf thing, okay?"

"Why would I?" He crossed his arms over his chest.

"Because... Because it's nagging a hole in your respective skulls!" she exploded and stood up. "And you're both too thick-headed to see it. Or too scared."

"Hey, I'm not scared of anything." He sat halfway up.

"Then talk to him about it," she said with a shrug. George glowered at her for a moment before lying back down.

"We don't need to talk about it," he muttered.

"Fine, but it still wouldn't hurt."

"You want us to hug and cry a bit about it, too?"

"If you feel the need to," she responded.

"We don't." He was staring intently up at the rafters, looking like he was about to explode. She sighed and slowly sat down beside him.

"Fred has been acting weird today," she said, although she wasn't sure she wanted to admit she noticed changes in his behaviour. "Could you try to talk to him?"

"Why?"

"Because it'll be pretty damn impossible working a case if you two aren't admitting each other's presence," she said dryly and stood up.

"So you still want to work with us?" The edge of his mouth turned up slightly.

"I'm going to keep working with you," she answered carefully. "Have I given the impression of anything else?" George just shrugged. "I'll go down and see if Charlie's found him."

It turned out Charlie hadn't found anything more than a branch pulled back to whack him in the face, and was currently holding a towel to the bleeding cut on his cheek. Nox told him George would probably talk to his twin when he showed up, but she wasn't sure of anything. Charlie nodded and removed the towel to let his mother inspect the cut. It had almost stopped bleeding and she administered a healing charm on it before telling Charlie to get cleaned up.

**OoO**

George stayed in bed for a while longer before hauling himself up and went to the window. Leaning a bit forward on the window sill, but not putting too much weight on his sore arms, he could recreate the view he knew from his childhood, when he was a few inches shorter. It looked more or less the same, except his parents had finally gotten around to removing the rotting tree root on the edge of the property where the garden gnomes liked to make their nest. It had to be a while ago, too, because the hole had began filling with grass and wildflowers.

He slowly let his eyes follow the edge of the forest, hardly paying attention to the memories the different parts of the backyard awoke, but feeling reassured that they were there anyway. This was his home. No matter how long he might live in Weasley Manor or any other place it would never mean as much to him as the Burrow.

A fog about six feet high was slowly moving eastwards beyond the tree line, and he lifted his hand in a silent holler, not sure if it would be noticed. It was, and a minute later Fred stood before him.

"What now, lemon face?" the ghost jeered.

"Lemon face?" George said confused before getting it. "Ah, because I'm so sour." He gave a small smile and sat down on the bed.

"I didn't know lycanthropy lowered your IQ," Fred said and began wandering aimlessly around the small room, poking at this and that.

"Yeah, about that," George said quietly and looked down at the floor. "Don't worry about me, okay?"

"Worry? I never worry," Fred said and set off a small smoke bomb on a shelf.

"Sure you don't," George muttered and waved away the cloud of smoke drifting towards him. "I just need to get into the habit of turning into..."

"Turning into Bill?" Fred suggested and kept poking on the stuff on the shelves.

"Into a werewolf," George made himself say. "And I need some time to recover, okay? Just take it easy for a day or two."

"And snog Lovegood's socks off," Fred said. George's eyes nearly popped out of his head and he didn't have time to duck the open vial Fred threw at him. It left a green and smelly stain on his shirt.

"Are you jealous?" George asked surprised.

"'Course not," Fred replied offhandedly.

"Good, because I still love you more," George said seriously before grinning. Fred didn't respond and just kept fiddling with an unfinished dream catcher that was meant to actually capture dreams.

"It's not fair," he said at last. "You're a werewolf and everyone breaks their backs bending over backwards to pamper you."

"And?" George said carefully.

"And I'm a freakin' ghost," Fred finished in a deflated tone. George blinked a few times and wasn't sure how to respond.

"It takes a while for them to get used to it, too," he tried at last. "And this was just the first time. The next time we can just be at the mansion or shop or something."

"You'd break everything in the shop with that tail," Fred muttered. "And probably start a fire."

"Fine. But it'll just be the two of us, okay?" George looked hopeful at him.

"And Noxy," Fred said with a smile. "I mean, she got off far too easy last night. Think of all the things we could have done to her." His mouth widened into a grin.

"You're gonna be the death of her," George answered with a laugh.

"Death ain't so bad," Fred said and looked at his twin. George gave him a one-sided shrug. "It's a bit... tasteless, though."

"Mum's cooking," George realised and nodded. "We're hurting your delicate sensibilities by enjoying everything you can't."

"Get stuffed," Fred answered and turned back to the dream-catcher, but didn't seem too offended.

"We'll go home and get cracking on the next case, eh?" George suggested, but didn't get an answer before their mother poked her head in through the door.

"I've turned on the bath water for you, dear, it'll be ready in a few minutes," she told George with a soppy smile. "That'll be nice, a warm bath."

"Yeah, thanks," he answered and fought the urge to pull a face. Fred was looking intensely at him, having trouble keeping in his laughter.

"I only added a bit of lavender oil, but there's other oils and bubbles in the cabinet above the sink," she kept going, and Fred began shaking with suppressed mirth.

"Uh-huh, fine," George said and shot his twin an annoyed look.

"I hope it's not too warm, but I wanted—" Mrs. Weasley kept going, but George stood up suddenly.

"Fantastic, Mum!" he exclaimed. "I'll get going right away so it doesn't get cold." He pushed past her and began taking off his shirt while going up the stairs.

"Goodness, she never stops!" Fred exclaimed and succumbed to the laughter once they were both safely behind the locked bathroom door. "I bet she would come running if you said you needed help drying off or getting dressed afterwards."

"Well, I don't," George said tersely and sucked air in between his teeth as he lowered one foot into the tub. "She's planning on boiling me alive," he muttered and turned off the hot water tap before stepping in with the other foot. He groaned a few times while sitting down, his muscles didn't agree with bending down to grab the edge of the tub, but once submerged he let out a long breath and relaxed.

"You're about as manly as Ginny," Fred muttered and came to sit on the edge of the tub.

"That's not too bad," George replied dreamily. "Turn off the cold water, would you?" Fred obliged before sticking his fingers down in the water. He couldn't exactly feel the heat of it, but he felt something. They stayed like that for a while, both dragging their fingers slowly through the water; George under the surface and Fred never deeper than the last joint on his fingers and never close to George's body.

"You let them baby you," Fred said at last. George slowly opened his eyes, seeming to have almost fallen asleep.

"I'm sorry, but there's not that much babying you can do for a ghost. Besides, if I hadn't gone here myself now Mum would either have escorted me or yelled at me for being ungrateful." George watched the small currents his hands were making.

"Well..." Fred didn't have a retort and just stared at his twin's knees. "Your legs are hairy," he noted after a few moments.

"Want me to begin shaving them?" George quipped back.

"No," Fred muttered and slowly let his eyes travel up the length of George's body, taking in every crease and shadow, in the end staring into his twin's eyes, but then quickly looking away .

"You miss having a body?" George asked quietly.

"Yeah," Fred admitted in a horse whisper.

"We'll get that fixed, don't worry." George tried giving him a reassuring smile, but it shook.

"What, so I can get fat and grey-haired like you?" Fred responded with a familiar gleam in his eyes.

"Hey, I don't have any grey hairs!" George objected.

"You do, right... there!" Fred said and pointed a cold finger at his twin's chest. In a matter of seconds they were both in the tub trying to wrestle each other, and George shouting every time his skin came in contact either with the icy ghost or the water that seemed scalding in comparison.

**AN: This is most likely the end of the story. I would have liked to have included Charlie and Bill having another talk, but the story is not about them, it's about the twins, so I'll leave it here.**


End file.
